One morning a radio station was chatting with a call-in listener who lucked out and won tickets for a George Michael concert.

“How long have you been a fan?” the high-energy disc jockey asked with infectious enthusiasm.

“Oh, since George was whamming.”

Ha! That conjured up curious images – and memories – as well.

Like, how about, “Wham Bam, thank you Ma’am?”

Yes, I know, that was a lyric from a David Bowie song.

I was referring to his private life, if you get the gist of my meaning!

I laughed to myself when I recalled the incident a few years ago when Mr. Michael (an oddity of terms, isn’t it?) got caught with his – um – pants down in a men’s rest room across the street from the prestigious Beverly Hills Hotel.

I thought it was admirable that George fessed up – quick as a wink – without any long drawn-out excuses.

But, with a top-notch lawyer he could have gotten off – so to speak – in my estimation.

Think about it.

Allegedly, he was standing at the urinal stroking his Johnson – no, not “Don Johnson” – his co**, peck** – whatever.

Without warning (gosh – the unexpected surprise could have sent him off half-co**ed – don’t ‘ya think?) an undercover agent apparently strolled in and spied the pop star in the act of – er – exposing himself in a crude intimate manner.

Or, however you want to posture it.

But, there weren’t any other witnesses to shake a stick at.

Essentially, it was George Michael’s word against that of the undercover dick (there’s something erotic – yet foreboding-sounding – about that term, isn’t there?) who proceeded to frisk him (betcha he was turned on by that) and haul his tight little a** to the slammer.

If you recall, straight off, George pleaded no contest.

Like the Michael Jackson scenario, was it possible that there was something so distinctive about his pen**, that he was sure the copper could identify it in open court, if necessary?

Is that why he begged off?

Personally, I figure that a high-powered attorney with some street smarts under his belt, could have put forth a compelling argument that George wasn’t actually “playing” with his organ at all (yeah, all the innuendos are hilarious in this scenario) but – rather – shaking it a tad to cast off a few last dew drops of pi** from the end of it.

Ladies, it’s a guy thing!

Ah, maybe that’s it.

He didn’t want to air his dirty underwear – um – laundry in public!

Remember what Oscar Wilde once said,

“Scandal is gossip made tedious by morality”