He then donned his trousers and fastened his belt before checking his reflection in the mirror... "Pretty suave for a guy nearing middle age", he thought to himself, checking his combover in the mirror, "I'm going to have to get some hair transplant treatment soon, for that shiny patch."

Roland then checked his blood alcohol content, pressing the switch on his hip that sent a tiny, fine probe into his skin. A small, tinny voice issued from his nether regions, assuring him it was 0.02% BAC. "About right for a late afternoon martini.", he murmured. The probe would remain, painlessly,for the rest of the evening.

He was ready for a night on the town, he decided, confident that his Homing Underwear was working. Now, when he'd had a skinful and was trying to find his way home he knew that he was all set. They were set to activate at 1:00am or a BAC of 0.10%, whichever came first.

Once activated they would send a small electric shock into each buttock sequentially, tickling the sciatic nerve a little and thus ensuring he took a step with that leg. The inbuilt GPS would direct which leg he was to move, to take the most effective and efficient route home. Sharp turns were handled by the application of a series of jolts to the same buttock until the desired direction was achieved.

They were also set to detect bladder pressure, directing him to the nearest restroom or alleyway before he accidentally pissed all over himself.

"At $69.95 a pair these oughtta sell like toys at Christmastime." Roland chuckled, smugly.