There's a sex pest on the lawn

I looked out of my office window this morning, and was shocked to see a well-known sex pest in the Sculpture Garden surrounded by young undergrads, so I phoned up campus security. I was impressed, even a little awed, by how seriously they took my complaint. There are security guards everywhere and I keep having to show my ID when I leave the lab to go to the toilet. I was mistaken though, it seems that they're all here to protect this fiend.

I've been telling all the administrators in the department to watch out, and don't accept the offer of any cigars from strange men, but they're just staring out of the windows all googly-eyed like a bunch of sixteen-year-olds at a Beatles concert. It's almost as if they want to have a cigar inserted in them by an ex-President. I have to give him credit though, he does have exquisite hair that is positively resplendent in the sun. The ultimate SAGA sex-symbol.

Actually, if I'm perfectly honest I don't really care what Clinton, or even Foley, got up to with his interns. I will never have interns, but as my career progresses I will have access to at least a few desperate/naive students every year, and believe me they'll have a lot more than a cigar to worry about during my office hours. It's a terrible cliche I know, but one of the few perks of academia is the constant access to firm, young flesh that get more interested in you as you get older. And no amount of 'sexual harassment' seminars are going to stop me from fully exploiting that resource.