I don’t remember which writer — I think it was P.J. O’Rourke — who once described the acronym MEGO (My Eyes Glaze Over) when applied to an article such as “Whither Gambia?”, i.e. implying that such a topic would be of little interest to anyone, and would bore one to tears in the reading.
Well, that may have been true with the old Gambia; but nowadays an article on The Gambia [sic] is likely to be anything but boring:
FORGET innocent piña coladas by the pool and cheeky glances at topless barmen – now sun-seeking, sex-loving Brit grans are boarding planes in search of far more risky adventures.
Wealthy older women are jetting off this summer for one reason only: to romp with men decades younger – and substantially poorer – than themselves. And this week the beaches are set to be more rampant than ever.
Promiscuous pensioners are heading in their droves to The Gambia, the west African country where exotic food is far from the spiciest thing on the menu.
Despite a plea made by The Gambia Tourist Board asking elderly Brits to go elsewhere to look for young lovers, the problem has only got worse.
I should warn Readers that some of the pics in the article are… overflowing.
“Grab-A-Granny” tourism… ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ “What a wonderfuuuul world” ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ [/Satchmo]
That was every bit as awful to look at as it sounds. Maybe with USAID given a welcome death, Gambia can use granny rent boys to offset the costs.
EWWWW!
Shouldn’t have looked. Words fail me. But if I were to come up with one, it would be that.
I worked with a guy who spent every nanosecond of his vacation time dipping his wick into the sex trade in Thailand. I wouldn’t know The Gambia if it bit me in the ass, but I can’t imagine STDs are any rarer there than they are in Asia.