A Jock jock strap.
Thats totes better than a bar any day by my reckoning.
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I kind of want to open a book store with a bar inside⌠but Iâm likely asking for trouble. Can you imagine the spectacular fights?
[ETA] This was the place, BTW:
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Copping a feel of your bar staff shouldnât result in asking the customer to leave, it should result in calling the cops.
Sexual assault is an actual crime, last I checked.
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I know what you are getting at⌠But rural Scottish pubs and even pubs in Inverness where you see old dudes in deerstalkers are a great bet. They are a place for conversation and stories. So like a verbal used book store 
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Hush now, nobody likes double standards being pointed out.
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What about a graduated response? Start with slapping, follow with a more intense lesson if needed, and call the cops only if this does not make the problem go away?
Getting the state forces involved, with their cops and jails and lawyers and guns and overreactions, should rarely be a first choice.
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You were on the wrong side of the hill. Back in â95 I was working on the final season of HBOâs Dream On, and in one particular episode, Brian Benbenâs character discovers that Wendie Malickâs character had never masturbated. So, in the interest of widening her horizons (or whatever), he hauls her off to a sex toy shop to go a-dildo-shoppinâ. Hilarity ensues.
Anyhoo, in order to pick up the set dressing for the sex shop set, one lucky production assistant (Your Humble Narrator) was given several hundreds in production funds and sent to the somewhat infamous Pleasure Chest down on Santa Monica Boulevard. Actually, I filled two shopping carts, and I do believe I spent over a grand. The goal was to buy the most outre, eye-catchingly over-the-top wankery-wares I could find, and somewhere in the haul were three (3) inflatable sheep, one white and two black, with Pepto-Bismol-pink orifices. I think they were $15.95 apiece.
I also remember getting a pretty amazing rubber dildo with the head of a T-Rex. I kinda wish Iâd kept that one. It lingered on the soundstage, nailed up over the Gripsâ office, for the rest of the season, then disappeared.
It was surprisingly cool.
Anyway, yeah. The Pleasure Chest. I think itâs still in business, but I ainât googling it here at work.
Heh. I am now remembering the look on the cashierâs face as I explained these purchases werenât really for me.
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Wow. Forgot he worked there.
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Are you saying they should change the way they dress to avoid unwanted sexual attention?
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Oh, I donât know about âinsufferablyââŚ
haha, no, thatâs not what iâm saying at all, lol.
of course no one should have to change the way they dress to avoid unwanted sexual attention.
if you read the post, the workers are already switching from kilts to trousers because they feel like that will reduce the issue and will make their work place more comfortable. iâm merely pointing out that there are ways they might be to keep the traditional kilt.
Well, I know where Iâm going on holiday.
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Oh, Lordy, itâs the octopuses/octopi/octopodes (the BEST pluralisation) debate all over againâŚ
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Iâd say mousetrap attached near penis is definitely stratergery, not strategy. All of the Nope.
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âclitoridesâ
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As I recall, the pub was The Gellions (although we had many experiences that evening) including a drunk Scot with his pants open approach our table; It was a night to be sure. Imagine the worst end of a Frat party at 6pm on a Friday. I was left wondering âhow did everyone get that drunk that fast?â. It only escalated from there.
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I would have thought that cold-cocking the perpetrators was what was called forâŚ
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That sounds like Carlisle at 1pm on the Friday before Christmas. I used to avoid going out then unless it was absolutely necessary.
Scottish licensing laws? I used to go to clubs in Edinburgh then go to a pub that opened at 5AM and wait until I could get a train home.
