(H/T Old Holborn)
The Hun normally keeps his clothes on until he reaches the ago of forty, and then you can't stop the bugger removing them. The whiff of a pine tree is enough, or the sight of a hill over 10m high. Off they come, great piles of brassieres and triple-strength Volk underpants strewn on the ground as Hun dugs swing free in the forests and wrinkled Hun buttocks frolic on the grass. Taking a quiet walk through BAOR training grounds, I was frequently assailed with the sight of whole families of naked Huns disporting themselves around the place. Not a pleasant sight for a young Englishman to witness. Thank God we won, or the buggers would be spreading acres of pimpled pink Deutchfleisch all over Hyde Park by now.
So it's hardly remarkable that the young Hun should protest against body scanners by, er, taking their kit off. It's the equivalent of having a library sit-in in Surrey. Oh, and safe for work - no nudity at all.