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Monday, November 05, 2007

Bit Nippy

One of the good things about we Gentlemen Who Moisturise is our ease at identifying our sexual fetishes. Rubber, leather - I know one wendy who gets off on being covered in Bird's own custard. Which I clearly have no problem with, but if your foreplay is boiling three kettles, you have to feel like you're missing a trick.

I did ask him if he felt naughty when turning down the pudding isle in Tescos, and he admitted he did a little. This, alas, really is beyond me. I mean, that's where they keep those make-your-own delightful Barbie cupcakes which are just dreamy that I really like making and oh my god I think I've found what gets me off. Perhaps my councilor is right: I really am a reincarnated racy grandma.

Ahem. Anyway. I also know a gentleman who practically spins on a sixpence if he sees Italian men in three-quarter length trousers. It has to be Italians, which is a pity as Shepherd's Bush is rife with Australians in shorts and flip-flops whatever the weather. I mean even now, with the weather turning to be as cold as my stepmother's love for me, there they are plodding along with their legs out, skidding through all the sodden streets of London in the most impractical footwear since my lesbotic friend went to her civil ceremony in motorbike boots. She'd apparently got confused after I'd said "wear something with a heel for a change" - where I was talking about a charming stiletto or kitten heel, she'd gone for something that could fell six bouncers with a well-timed roundhouse.

Anyway, I was walking along said London street not three weeks back, wrapped up to my lovely eyes against the bitter cold, when coming the other way was a rather thick-set Australian. How did I know he was antipodean? Despite temperatures eking towards those you'd get when fixed in Teri Hatcher's unfeeling gaze, he was clad merely in a pair of shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops with a pair of sunglasses hanging around his neck. I was agog.

Although as I got closer I saw he had indeed made a concession to the bitter gale blowing. You know what it was?

A woolly hat.

For goodness' sake.

1 comment:

mainja said...

well, they do say you lose the most heat through your head... perhaps it is we who are the fools, bundled in coats and scarves and, um, pants...