Blackmail
Corner....Free Beer.....Give us a
Flash!...Makin'
Movies....Seaside
Rock.....Bunter....Tippler....Top
Totty...Zercon
Mercedes....Gig Guide
TOTTY BIMBO
THE BABE WHO TELLS IT LIKE IT IS!
(Careful, chaps...)
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I just spent two whole weeks helping out in a totally male dominated environment. Not only have I emerged remarkably unscathed, but I think I may have regained some faith in men too. "My conscience would never allow me to leave a helpless bunck of males to stumble their way through life..." Having phoned my agency about any further freelance journalism jobs, I wasn't overly enamoured with the offer of a fortnight's clerical work with a maintenance company. Perhaps it was due to a weak moment that I heard myself accepting, maybe it was mere curiosity... Or possibly the words: 'about 20 hunky blokes to look after', had gone some way to tipping the scales. Besides, my conscience would never allow me to leave a helpless bunch of males to stumble their way through life, without the expert guidance of a woman. And there's always the opportunity for research, so off I went to greet my fate. Hunky? Hmmmmm...different shapes and sizes would have been a more accurate description. Blokes? Yes, most definitely. Two minutes inside the door I was introduced to the brew room - a delightful haven, tastefully decorated with various editions of 'page three'. Trying desperately to ignore the vast array of perfect boobs and bums, I said my hellos to a mass of strange male faces, and searched frantically for the nearest emergency exit. I couldn't believe what I'd let myself in for - convinced that the next fortnight would be spent fending off sexist and chauvinistic abuse, I scuttled off to my assigned corner and awaited the onslaught. "They'd give any WI meeting a run for its money"" It didn't happen. I can honestly say I never met a nicer bunch of gents in my life. Not that I'd be thanked for divulging it. They tried hard to present a macho image. Complaints about 'the Mrs, 'er indoors and the bairns' were a constant source of comfort to them. But get them on the subject of pregnancy, childbirth and fatherhood and they'd give any WI meeting a run for its money. There were times I'd have to leave the brew room for fear of perforated eardrums. "One bloke almost wept when Anna Kournikova was knocked out" Don't get me wrong, there was enough testosterone floating around in there - which was very much in evidence when women's Wimbledon was on the box. One bloke almost wept when Anna Kournikova was knocked out, or should that be Anna 'Kuorni - crotch piece', as he affectionately referred to her. Then there was the one who loved nothing more than to stare at a screen-saver of naked women all day. No matter how hard I tried to discover what his girlfriend of two years was like, I learned no more about her than she's a 'size eight with 32DD'. And I did find out - completely be accident you understand - that they mostly all harboured a secret fascination for stocking tops. These are men who laugh in the face of danger, wrestle with toxic gas leaks and live electric cables, taking every hazard in their stride, then set off at break-neck speed to rescue a stranded duckling. Not least, the gentle giant who would try to stay cool, by sauntering at a gentle pace until he thought he was out of sight, then legging it. "I think I fell a little in love with them all" Like I said, I'm pretty sure these guys wouldn't appreciate having their macho cover blown, and it wouldn't be fair of me to show them in their true light. They treated me like a princess, all the time I was there, and I think I fell a little in love with them all. (So much so, that I couldn't even bring myself to deface their nudey posters before I left). So, to the team at Drake & Skull - don't worry chaps, your secret's safe with me! TOTTY BIMBO
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