Anne Duke

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Going Off Bingo

Percy Blake and his wife Dolores were fanatical about bingo, they never missed a session at the village hall. And, bingo, they regularly came up for a couple of quid here and a couple of quid there.

Then a lovely and absolutely delightful girl came to live nearby, the sort any man just can't ignore. Percy went all agog the first time he saw her, and from then on, he was hardly ever out of a kind of trance-like goggle-ment.

You couldn’t blame him. The girl was ANNE DUKE, a Welsh beauty queen, with vitalistics of 36'-23'-36", and Dolores had never looked anything like that.

So, Percy went off bingo. He sat on his front doorstep waiting for Anne to walk by. Dolores didn’t go off bingo. She still went. And she continued to coin the bingo lolly and Percy continued to goggle. It was always a real pleasure to see Anne walk by. He didn’t ever try to date her. Well, what good is it when she’s twenty and he‘s eighty-four?

Jane Dixon

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Luck of the Irish

They play that hurling game in Ireland. Everything flies about.

"Did that one hurt, Paddy?" asks O'Reilly.

"Me ears is still ringing, yer dirty scoundrel."

"Hard luck, me boyo."

Well, hard luck is what you get in that kind of game. But there are compensations, all to do with how things look after the game.

They look lovely. Ireland is full of colleens.

Here's one of them. JANE DIXON. Many a Paddy will walk ten miles to call on her and still be full of blarney when he arrives. Men of other nations could only ask hoarsely for water.

Jane, of course, recognises blarney as soon as she hears it. Many a Paddy, calling with a bunch of flowers and an invitation to the horse show, has had his foot caught excruciatingly in the door as Jane closes it.

"Oh, me foot!"

"Does it hurt, Paddy?" calls Jane through the mail-box.

"Like the devil himself, me darling."

"Hard luck, me boyo."

Even in Ireland you can't win them all.

Lisa Linette

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Cute Canuck

Girls all over the world are cute simply because they’re born that way, and you naturally allow for a few unholy errors or terrors. High in the rankings appertaining to those who are the cutest come the Canadian girls. Living as they do in that great, wild, untamed, pine scented, maple endowed land of forests and lakes, they’ve got something you can’t get in the atmosphere of the Mersey Tunnel, say.

There's LISA LINETTE, for instance.

Lisa is a dancer from Vancouver and besides being cuter is also much more fascinating than any of those engagingly playful bears that pop out at you from trees all over Canada. No, the Canadian bears are darlings, really, and breathtakingly huggable, but show us any grizzly who looks as cute as Lisa when doing up its garter, and we still wouldn’t believe you.

Lisa will be over in Europe in 1965, where she’ll dance her way round the old-fashioned capitals, and if you want to know what sort of shape to look for Lisa comes very curvily in a size of 36"-22"-36". Oh, and if you want to make any kind of a hit with her, remember that her hobbies are golf, ice-skating and music.

Julie Marsden

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Cross-Country Charmer

You wouldn’t think this trim, slim charmer was a cross-country champ, would you—or would you? Her name is JULIE MARSDEN and she’s won any number of trophies running miles and miles over the countryside in all weathers, without looking anything but engagingly feminine. In fact, Julie is very feminine and when she isn’t in her track suit she likes to wear all the frills that the ultra-feminine girls do wear.

We caught up with Julie when she was out surveying the route for one more cross-country run. She was picking her way over the roughest ground and looking delightfully leggy about it. It was a sure way of proving with our camera that our girl athletes don’t look like Amazons but just like the pretty girls next door.

Sally Randall

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She Can also Dance

It’s a fact that SALLY RANDALL not only looks absolutely delightful in black lingerie, and that she can not only cook, she can also dance.

Sally, it happens, is a dancer of no mean merit. We accept that information with pleasure. We’ll settle anytime that’s convenient for the cooking.

Elaine Stephens

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Pigtails and Pep

When ELAINE STEPHENS was a leggy schoolgirl she used to find that the noisy boys wanted to tweak her pigtails and the nice boys wanted to carry her books. The barbarous ones only ever wanted to kiss her.

Elaine, all grown-up now. still has her pigtails—but no one pulls them anymore, and no one carries her books.

The barbarous boys who have grown into barbarous men are the ones who have remained in the picture, of course.

"The trouble is." says Elaine, "they still think Sunday afternoons are the time for them to come around and kiss me in the summer-house. What sauce!

When I was a schoolgirl. I’ll admit I did get kissed in the summer-house, but I never ever go in there now— except on Sunday afternoons."

Anne Mattingley

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All Soaped Up

It's ANNE MATTINGLEY who’s getting herself into a lather over the household chores

Actually, Anne was doing very well until she slipped on the soap and ended up exactly where it most hurts. And where it was most wet.

All soaped up. Anne decided she might as well give her skirt its weekly tub.

Anne, a London typist, has more than one skirt, however. That doesn't mean she's rich, only well-equipped.

We like both skirts. So, does the milkman who spotted them on his way round to deliver the midday milk

Directoire Controversy

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Directoire Controversy

Dear Rosemary,

Letter No. 77 by Escort caused quite an argument in our private club the other evening. It was mentioned that he had said that directoire knic­kers were only worn nowadays by schoolgirls and old maids. Several of the girls present heatedly denied this and were led in their arguments by Helen, who is about as glamorous a girl as anyone could wish to meet. She agreed that some directoire knickers, and especially those of the 1920’s were too full and didn’t emphasize the figure sufficiently, but maintained that modern knickers, if tastefully chosen, could be equally glamorous as the French type. She said that they were much more comfortable and warmer on cold winter days because of the elastic around the legs, and that she herself wore them frequently. The majority of us replied, that, although we certainly couldn’t accuse her of being either an old maid or a schoolgirl, we thought that the flowing lines of the French type were much more glam­orous. Helen grew quite excited about the subject and declared that she was wearing directoire knickers at that moment, and that if one of the girls who was wear­ing the French variety would volunteer to help, she would show us her own and let us decide on the spot. After some hesitation among the girls, Jean blushingly promised to help her out.

Read More

Linda Clemenes

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Linda The Goer

Talking about geary goers, as we were some pages back, how about 18-year-old LINDA CLEMENES of Portsmouth down in lovely Hampshire?

Linda is such a goer that nothing less than a motorbike suits her desire to get up and go at speed. Her motorbike is her great love. There are boyfriends, of course, but mostly they take a back seat on the pillion.

Linda works for her local paper, she has dark brown hair that is fascinatingly ruffled and windswept, and brown eyes that often look browner through her goggles.

Her vitalistics are 37-25-36, and her long legs look extremely geary in her motorcycle boots. Don't get in the way if you see her coming, you'll get caught in her slipstream.

Minuit Cinq No 19

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No 19

Eva Bartok

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Leather Weather for Eva

Since it won’t be too long before Europe will be discarding the bikini in favour of warmer wear, EVA BARTOK, the Hungarian actress, is trying out leather fashions in West Berlin.

Eva, always in the front of what’s new in fashion, is quite aware of the fact that all those vast herds of steer don’t wear their hides for nothing. They sure keep the cold out.

But that isn’t to say you can’t turn a hide into something that will make a woman snug and warm and gorgeous.

And it certainly gives her a shine.

Nicola Taylor

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Pick-Me-Up

You can be the most indispensable secretary to the busiest tycoon in Black Boulder Falls or Little Twittering, but you can’t keep at it indefinitely. Sometime you’ve got to put the lid on the typewriter and go in for a bit of rollicking fun.

Like letting off a firework in a room full of transcendental meditators or taking a ride on a recalcitrant bicycle. NICOLA TAYLOR chose the latter. She went spinning down the garden path, through the gate, down the lane and up the hill.

Then there was a crunch, a clatter and an “Ouch!”

Oh well, it’s all part of a pick-me-up.

Millicent Dawson

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You Could Have Fooled Fred

"Now this is a part of London noted for its hilly position and its vistas," said the guide, "and there for instance, you can see the clock tower of the Edward­ian town hall—"

"Hold on," said Fred, "you could have fooled me if I'd only been listening, but I been looking as well, and that's no clock tower."

"Eyes the other way, if you please," said the guide, who was a walloping great woman who didn't like anyone not paying proper attention.

But Fred resigned from the Hamp­stead tour and introduced himself to a vista he much preferred to clock towers. It was London model MILLICENT DAWSON and Fred being so polite as well as raising his hat, they had a coffee together and then visited the Hamp­stead funfair.

Fred got stuck on the Dodgems and Millicent went off to audition for a commercial in Barbados. While Fred was still going round and round Millicent won through.

Norma Gordon

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Gang Awa

The fact is, sultry NORMA GORDON, Scottish beauty queen, was in the Highlands one day and over the border the next. Reason? She had a date with a handsome Yank—the kind of date she just couldn’t miss. The day before we took these photographs he proposed and the day after Norma went and married him. She kept it so dark we didn't even have time to buy her a blue garter to wear.

We should have guessed something big was cooking, for Norma was so absent-minded at this sitting she fell off the sofa twice. The fact that she came up smiling on each occasion should have given us an added clue. This whirling pirouette she executed for the sheer joy of it, and we still didn't realise why.

We presume that was because we’re not currently madly in love ourselves. Oh, youth—oh, springtime—oh, vanished vitality and aching backs. Oh, that lucky Yank.

Jan Newman

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Story of a Dream

It was night. Well, it was all dark, anyway, and Fred was in bed. And solidly immersed in a dream about fishing boats.

When Fred is solidly immersed his mind is totally unimaginative.

Far removed from boats and fish is our kind of dream. Her name is JAN NEWMAN. She lives on the South Coast and is a sun worshipper. If, when you are deep in sleep, you can dream about a dream like Jan, then you'll have a far more sublime period of floating sub-consciousness than silly old Fred.

Don't ask us how.

Perhaps it's just a matter of artistic concentration and the right kind of night-cap.

Jan is a secretary, a richly corn-coloured blonde with the loveliest legs. If you like elegance, you whistle. If you like dumplings, go home to mother.

Sometimes even elegance takes a tumble. Still, it was entirely involuntary. Jan thought there was a chair there. Never mind, it does prove our point, that she really does have the loveliest legs.