Melanie Cooper

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Farmers Girl

It doesn’t mean that MELANIE COOPER is a milkmaid or ploughs the fields or harvests the corn.

It only means that Melanie, who lives in the lush county of Hampshire, is the toast of any farmer who has a discriminating eye for sex appeal and can get his mind off his beetroots.

That’s not difficult for a farmer’s boy when Melanie is around the place, but it’s sometimes difficult for a dedicated farmer. A dedicated farmer is a man who can’t think about anything but tomorrow’s weather. A farmer’s boy hasn’t got those problems. Melanie likes farmers because they’re lean and masculine and look very vital on horses. Farmer’s boys are only for patting on the head.

Sylvia Grant

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It All Happens At Once

It always does. Take the case of pretty SYLVIA GRANT, for instance. Not only does she get caught up in the brambles but she also takes a tumble, and she wasn’t doing anything to anybody, merely fighting her way through a prickly hedge.

Ah well, as long as you can laugh about it afterwards it’s hardly the end of the world. It can just hurt at the time, that’s all. Sylvia, by the way, is a shorthand-typist with vitalistics of 37"-23"-36" and loves a party.

Not you, Nigel, you’re not a party, you’re an insurance broker. Keep your mind on premiums.

Rossy Rittau

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Rossy

What can one say about a girl who wears such lovely boots?

One can say here is a girl all set for a long walk, at which a man at the back will voice the feelings of all by loudly proclaiming his disbelief. The following conversation will then ensue.

“What was that you said, sir?”

“I said girls in high boots don't wear them for walking, they wear them as an adornment not as a piece of equipment.”

"What we meant was that she looks as if she could manage a long walk.”

“Oh, that’s your game, is it? Get a lovely girl like that to pull on a pair of leather boots and then send her off to walk to Liverpool. How dare you? Just send her home to me, we’re having muffins for tea this afternoon and we’d like her to join us.”

“Us?”

“Me and my dog.”

Having got over that by adroitly procrastinating, we ought to tell you the girl is ROSSY RITTAU. She’s so utterly enchanting that if she has a muffin tea with anybody it’s going to be us. The man at the back can sit down again.

Bridget Cole

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We Didn't Find Any Scilla Nonscripta

It wasn’t the time of the year as it happened. If we hadn’t been dead ignorant, we’d have known, but being dead ignorant we went off with a pair of scissors and a trog and began a blissful, optimistic hunt for the stuff.

Scilla nonscripta is mostly found in woodlands, so we got that part right. For your information, that’s the Latin name for bluebells, and we don’t mean those in fishnet tights and 5' 8 tall.

It was late summer. They’d been and gone months before.

Nobody told us.

But we did find Persona Bella, which being translated from Peruvian means a bloom of great charm, which lights up when the Beatles are on. The one we found was quite delightful and of the Cole variety.

BRIDGET COLE is eighteen, comes from Horley, and has a great affection for horses, which she rides with great verve and aplomb, and if we only had a little of each we wouldn’t fall off so often.

She works in a Crawley office and is thinking about the prospects of becoming a model.

We think she’s much more decorative than a vase full of scilla nonscripta.

Ben's Books

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Strip Lingerie No 10

Tessa King

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Farm Favourite

Down on her farm in Sussex, TESSA KING is a great favourite - and not just because she’s kind to the animals. Tessa is a farmer's wife and just about as cute as they come.

It was a little too wet and muddy on this occasion to show you Tessa shepherding the gentle cows through the gate and across the road, but we're able at least to show you she's definitely one of the most photogenic farmers’ wives south of the Highlands.

Up in the morning early is Tessa, and if you thought a farmer's wife dressed herself in the rural equivalent of a boiler suit to face the day's chores, then here’s the exception which proves you shouldn't generalise.

This is the age of glamour - and the age that takes in farm favourites like Tessa. That side look out of the window was not made to project charm alone - a couple of hen turkeys had skipped away from the main throng (is throng of turkeys strictly correct?) to wing a lift on the tractor. Turkeys on tractors being taboo, Tessa was weighing up the necessity of rushing out to rescue them before they fell under the wheels. But not in this outfit !

Sandra McPherson

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Hey, Mac !

In calling the attention of SANDRA McPHERSON to the fact that a picture wanted hanging, we did so with a loud whisper. One never shouts at a lady.

It's an accepted facet of pin-up modelling that the job of climbing a pair of steps to hang a picture is never accomplished with a straightforward precision. The picture is too heavy, the steps totter and so eventually does the model. With models as cute as Sandra, the inevitable consequence adds up to a pretty picture somewhat different from the one to be hung.

Bruised she may be, disturbed she certainly is, but Sandra nevertheless - like all similarly pretty pictures - covers the physical hurt and the emotional disturbance with a smile. And then tries again.

And having completed the job successfully she takes time off to listen to a soothing record or two. The introduction of a few cushions is to offset the susceptible tenderness of the bruises, which may not be real to you but are certainly very real to Sandra !

Jill Summers

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Where's Jack ?

Here’s a Jill - JILL SUMMERS, in fact—and all that’s necessary to make this a gay twosome by the sea is Jack. He’ probably gone fishing.

Well, a girl as attractive as Jill won’t be alone for long on the beach, for it doesn’t matter how many Jacks have gone fishing there are always large numbers of discriminating beach boys who prefer attractive girls to cold-eyed fish.

Helen Candlish

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It's The Comfort That Counts !

It’s a pleasure to ask you to meet HELEN CANDLISH, the girl who appears in the next issue of our companion magazine FUNFARE, for this is a preview of Helens series. It’s also to show you that there is a great deal of comfort in old-fashioned long underwear that the flimsiness of more fashionable garments lacks.

With a book, a settee and time to spare, comfort is, in fact, the current keynote with Helen. You may laugh at Helen’s longs, but flimsiness is one thing and comfort another. After all, pilots don’t fly in swimsuits and Russian girls don’t sweep snow in a bikini.

So, until the long hot days of summer definitely show up, what have you got against a girl putting warmth before chilliness?

Indeed, what was good enough for mother is good enough for daughter and what is good enough for daughter is comfortable enough for Helen.

Birgit Kuppershaus

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Fabulous Fraulein

Regarded as stunningly fabulous in the world of West Berlin's glamour studios is BIRGIT KUPPERSHAVS, and you can say that again.

Birgit is our idea of the girl we'd most like to fight a duel over, if only we could be sure of winning.

Lynda Farrell

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Did You Go To Eton ?

When presented with the delightful picture that LYNDA FARRELL made in her lounge, our eyes were taken with her striped tie. Eton?

“No," said Lynda, "I didn’t go to Eton. It's a boys' school. Do I look like a boy?" We left her in no doubt that she didn’t but suggested she might at least have gone to Eton to look over the wall. "What for?" asked Lynda.

We couldn’t think of an answer to that one so pulled our hat down over our ears to take her mind off our gormlessness.

“You look better like that." said Lynda, “and if you must know I wear my tie to show I'm a career girl. I’m going to study astrology.”

Naturally, we were all agog at that and asked why.

"So that I can make you see stars,” said Lynda and pushed our hat farther over our ears by hitting it with the telephone.

Realising that people who ask silly questions are bound to get conked, we left with a ringing in our brainbox and a conviction that lovely girls can't half make an impact.

Especially on one's hat.

Susan Day

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What A Nice Day

A nice day is the kind of day when that brown-eyed brunette at last gives you a smile or when sales girl SUSAN DAY is just herself.

Susan designs clothes as well as selling them, she's an expert in ladies' fashions and looks pretty nice in them herself. And she’s got just the figure for sweaters. 37 - 24 - 37. A sweater on Susan turns into poetry. Try a line or two from Keats. Or a curve or two from Pythagorus.

Ben's Books

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Strip Lingerie No 12

Helen Williams

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Chelsea Model

That’s the place to be. Where it’s all happening. Chelsea. Full of the most interesting people and lovely walks by the river. Old pubs and frothy beer. Girls. Boys. Bicycles. Tall and kindly policemen. Hat shops. Colleges. Studios. Painters and writers. Models.

The nicest, the loveliest, the shapeliest live in Chelsea. There’s one we saw looking in the shop window. HELEN WILLIAMS. A real pet, a dream boat, a lover of poetry, of Byron, Shelley and Keats. Shame about Keats. Meander with us down tree-lined Cheyne Walk and take your mind off all that traffic at Piccadilly Circus. Helen adores Cheyne Walk. She’d like to live there. She will if she can win fifty thousand on a horse.

Fancoise Hardy

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To Cut A Long Story Short

No, listen, Vera, don't muck about, people are looking. Listen, and I'll tell you. It was a lovely night and I wasn’t doing anything, I was just wandering around Venice looking for a lady gondolier who wasn't going anywhere—yes, of course I love you, I wouldn’t have let you buy me that bag of oranges otherwise, would I!—and all of a sudden I saw this E-type Jag in racing green.

Well, to cut a long story short—move your elbow, beloved—named a price and the Transylvanian salesman named a price and I gave a hollow laugh and he said you don’t half look queer, monsieur, and I said I feel queer.

Then what should I see but the most blinding piece of Venetian sculpture—well, I thought it was at first, only it moved and who d'you think it was! No, not Milly burgentrot, she went off to Istanbul with that Turkish bath attendant—no, nor Annie Finnegan, either, she's having an allergy in Cork.

It was FRANCOISE HARDY. What d'you mean, who's she! How do I know who her mother is! Mrs. Hardy, I suppose. Now don’t be like that, you know I’m getting wrinkles about you—no, never look at other women—I just happened to spot this sensational vision in a mini-skirt outside this Venice cinema and I just thought she’d go with this E-type Jag I was buying, only to cut a long story short I fell flat on me kisser when I started to move — this salesman nit had his foot hooked over mine to stop me getting away—

All right give us a kiss then.