Did I ever tell you about Titless Pete? He was titless alright. He was called that because he got caught in a friendly fire incident during the first Iraq war, whilst waiting for a bus in Dagenham. An Apache pilot mistook him for Baghdad and shot a Hellfire missile at him. His nipples were simply vapourised in the explosion.
By some miracle, the rest of Pete survived comparatively unscathed, but the experience left him deeply traumatised and to add insult to injury, the American government billed him for the missile to the tune of $600,000.
Anyway, the whole incident wrecked his marriage and he spent some time on the streets, before he got a job writing angry letters to Teletext. He specialised in demands for a return to capital punishment. You could always tell if a letter was one of Pete's if it ended with "and I'd pull the lever myself!".
Once he'd saved up enough money from his new job, he travelled to Switzerland to have
a pioneering restorative procedure to get his nipples back. It was a complete success to begin with, but unfortunately the nipples rejected him. Embittered, he returned home to his job, and started writing letters insulting cuckoo clocks, yodelling and Swatches, until one day he was found dead in his flat with a Swiss Army Knife protruding from his back. No arrests were ever made.
Many stories have a moral, but this one has two.
A: Nipples maketh the man.
B: Don't fuck with the Swiss.