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Shopping on London's Oxford Street isn't the same anymore.
Those damn pickpockets have spoiled everything.
They're so good they can whip your knickers off while you're wearing them.
It's the tell-tale draft up your Khyber Pass that signifies your drawers have gone.
By the time you've texted one of your girlfriends to say your knickers have been swiped your drawers are further away than the recipient of your text.
And can you really report it to the police?
"Do these knickers have any distinguishing features, madam?"
"Yes, officer, there's a black pubic hair lurking in the gusset."
Bloody pickpockets!

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