God's Own Country

So I really enjoyed getting down to supposedly "God's Own Country" AKA Cronulla the other night for a party (Foreign Friends, Cronulla is a beach side suburb of Sydney, while, although near the city of Sydney also through accidents of geography finds itself a fairly insular area where the locals NEVER leave and also NEVER stop gabbing bout how wonderful the place is to live. But a warning, if you google the place you will also find some rather disturbing facts about the place that made news a while back)
A little off topic there...anyways, as I was saying, it was nice to get the opportunity to socialise with some old mates and have a proper party, the rain meant we were all inside, being close quarters meant that I had to socialise and well...um...admit to a great social death for the Sutherland Shire and reveal that I indeed had driven in from out of town!
Little did I know how much a conversation starter THAT would be. Energetic, wide eyed queries ensued; "What's it like taking a real motorway?" "What are the other Westfield mall's like?" "Does Sydney have other beaches...with waves?" etc etc

After three light beers I did have to break the seal, and truth is, I needed a breather from all the attention and soft whispering about the 'foreigner' and 'new blood' around the room.

Back to it, the natural teacher in me worked the room, revealing all types of interesting facts about the wide world, yes, people do marry into different suburbs, even have interests non relatable to a surfboard, wax and blonding hair products. we have shoes, long pants and I even had to admit I'd seen people without their postcode tattooed on their inner arm...in the midst of all this hubris I gazed down to my chest to identify a large, fat PUBE on my Tshirt!
.
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LEARING out at the circle of people around me, positively waving as if to say "Hey, I've just been to the loo and got caught on my owners hands as he did the zip up on the fly"

Oh my GOD, how long had that been there? Had anyone seen it?
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.
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Then again, If I was chatting to a total stranger at a party, would I be POLITE
enough to ignore the 'sexual hair' on his shirt OR would I be POLITE enough to point it out in a non confronting manner as to save the poor foreigner from further embarrasment?

A friggin pubic hair!
Now that hasn't happened to me before...
I still shudder to think about it