Un[expected nudity]
Germany, in the not so distant past. Germany, as no doubt has become apparent in this QOTW already, has a bit of a reputation, along with many other parts of Europe, for its attitude towards the human form.

So I'm off holidaying there, catching up with some friends; not sure what to do we decide to go to the pool. Now, "go to the pool" in German-female presumably means, "maybe swim a bit, but most likely just go to the sauna". Now, you know how old people in the UK went through national service and are from another era and all that jazz and so you're quite likely at the swimming baths to see old-man-todger? Germany somewhat extends that principle. It's by no means everyone, but it's by no means no one; these girls, whether due to my prescence, their own uncertainty of being naked in front of friends or merely that they can't be arsed to change decide to wear their swimsuits. So off we strut, in bikinis and shorts, to the sauna, past the Schlaffraum (which I have to go in one day just to see how Schlaffy it really is), swing open the door and are met eye to eye by a good half-dozen members of all shapes and sizes. The amassed krauts, of all genders, male, female, and those inbetween, look upon us, upon we clad.

They look at us almost in horror until one of my friends, lying on her back, head near to my lap, bikini top at near-failure, starts talking to me in her expertly crafted American accent and I respond in my Middle Class Londonese; at this point the Germans go back to their averting of crotch-staring and a realisation sinks in - that it's far too late by now to sit nude in the company of three bikini-clad friends and forever destroy the way they look at me.

Bugger.
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Thu 4 Jun 2009, 1:39, Reply)