If there's a girl you'd most like to be lost in a casino with it must be GAIL PINDER, for Gail is a croupier at a Manchester night club.
Never did any croupier look so charming or rake in the lolly so sweetly. It's a pleasure to lose. Well, even if not a pleasure it doesn’t hurt so much, not if you lose yourself in her green eyes as she scoops it in.
Secretary, JUDY COE was mad about tennis when she was an energetic and growing schoolgirl. Here she is looking like she used to look when she was a prefect in the Sixth and Milly Cutbosh was the school sneak. We won't tell you about what happened, except to say all the nice girls got together and threw Milly off Ben Nevis.
When Judy left school, she was still quite gone on tennis, so she joined a nearby club. An utterly dynamic bloke was the club captain. He liked Judy just as much for her form as her skill. He started to ring her up when the week-ends were coming around.
"Well, what'll we do, tennis or what?" he'd say.
Judy always knew the right answer; her mother had told her.
"Well, tennis, of course," she'd say.
Harry thought anybody who couldn't sort out his own problems but had to take them to a psychiatrist needed to have his head examined. His friend Oliver said that was the same thing, to which Harry replied it was all a lot of half-baked propaganda put about by blokes who had to make a living at it.
And then he met SANDRA MORRELL at a garden party, where there were lots of homemade cakes on view and a lot of home-made wine-tasting going on. Harry had tested them all by the time he bumped into Sandra, who was there in her official capacity as the garden party beauty queen or something equally exotic and ravishing.
Harry almost fell down. What a doll, he thought. He took her hand and pressed unsolicited kisses on it. Then he looked into her eyes and murmured, "Come and try my cherry tart, I made it myself." "Pardon me," said Sandra," but I never eat cherry tart with men who've had too much elderberry wine."
Harry was distraught. He went to see a psychiatrist next day to try and find out why elderberry wine made him so unattractive to women.
And after six visits, all at ten guineas a time, the psychiatrist told him it was because too much elderberry wine made him lurch sideways.
He was on his way to Ireland and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He knew the rumours about all those punch-ups weren't rumours at all, and that if they found out his name was Smith and he came from Birmingham they’d knock his flaming head off.
On the way, there he passed someone going the other way. She was simply delicious and he only had time to wave as their boats passed. When she waved back he was enraptured. "Stop the boat,” he said to the captain, "I want to get off." "Silly boy," murmured the captain, patting his head and going on his way.
However, when he got to Ireland he had something to take his mind off the fireworks. It was his dream of home, all in the shape of BRIDGET KILDARE Bridget is a model who is constantly travelling to and fro in her professional engagements, and more than a few men who have seen her passing by consider her a dream of home.
It’s not only the teenage girls who love the mini fashions, you know. Grown-up girls like housewife JOANANN MARSHALL love them too, and what’s more, look absolutely gorgeous in them.
Naturally, you need to have peekaboo legs.
You also need a kind of off-beat detachment to enable you to ignore the wolf whistles.
Joanann is a Lancashire girl and as is well-known, the Lancashire males whistle louder than any. But at least they don’t go in for all that pinching and nipping. You have to go all the way to Rome for that.
Imagine having to go all the way to Rome to get pinched. Well, some like it.
Don’t try pinching Joanann. You'll get socked. She bruises easily She's very fond of art by the way. She doesn’t spend all her time going out and shopping for vegetables. You can still make the most of life.
Some men are lucky. One of them was very lucky. He married her and helps her with her mini shopping. He not only knows what Joanann likes, he knows what he likes too.
We’re all kids at heart.
Anyway, who wants to be old? Even if you’re ninety there’s no fun in acting like ninety.
Deliciously youthful is CHERYL PETERS, and when she found herself in the kiddies’ playground and no kiddies in sight, she couldn’t resist the temptation to act like a six-year-old. Mini-skirted, long-legged Cheryl is just the girl to make the ninety-year-old ex-soldiers throw away their crutches.
Old Percy Hammerstroke did just that.
And what happened?
Poor old Percy fell flat on his face.
Cheryl picked him up and laughingly said, "There’s no need to be ridiculous."
"No fool like an old fool," muttered Percy.
What do you say when you go out to buy a new hotplate for your kitchen and come back with a new set of glamorous lingerie instead?
That's life. What else can you say? It was what AVRIL MANDERS said, and personally we think Avril in a new set of glamour pants and all that looks a lot more peachy than a hotplate, new or otherwise.
When you live in an apartment and do your own cooking, you need a hotplate or a gas ring or something to cook the eggs on, but it's not a must. You can always go out and eat. Especially if you've got lots of generous boyfriends, only too delighted to stand you some hot fish and chips.
Avril likes a regular meal. It keeps her in shape, like.
A top-class car salesman is worth his weight in cigar lighters. Now, not everyone can be top-class but you can all try and none of you should be too proud to pick up a few tips.
Here's a very good tip.
First, stand your product in the most attractive part of the showroom, preferably where the accounts girl makes the coffee. Then look around for a corking dolly bird, one with fantastic legs, and if she’s wearing suspenders instead of those rotten old sexless tights, so much the better. Anybody drifting into the showroom to look at a car isn't going to turn his nose up at the glimpse of a sexy suspender.
A dolly bird rather on the lines of JUTTA ALBRECHT, West German model, will do famously. Ask her to try the car out for size, ask her to see whether it will suit her legs and so on. Well, nobody can resist the lush interior of any new car, especially dolly birds. It gives them that extra expensive feel. So, in she gets and she tries it for comfort and size and puts her lovely legs all over the place. Meanwhile the customers are streaming in and in no time at all you've got about two dozen potential buyers crowding you and elbowing you about. You slip a bar of chocolate into the dolly bird's hand and she goes off munching it.
Followed, of course, by all your potential buyers.
Jutta posed for these pics happily enough, and did all she could to look as much like a corking dolly bird as she could. Her legs felt a bit crowded at times, but not enough to upset her dedication.
All over the world the uninhibited young ones are worshipping at the feet of those who bring to them the indescribable bliss of pop music. In the beat clubs of Berlin, the young workers find dynamic escapism on the dance floors, and it’s go, go, chick, be your age, you’re only young once. Caught in a mood of unrivalled vitality and zest is ANGIE HOLT, a secretary in West Berlin. Unrepressed, having nothing to do with anything that smacks of convention or establishmentarianism, Angie is representative of all that is alive and joyful in the big city of today.
Swing, baby, you’re a picture of delight.
OUR AU PAIR WAS NEVER LIKE THIS
Most people who have had the invaluable help of an au pair girl from abroad will tell you they've never had one quite like SONYA MOULTZ.
Sonya is Austrian. She's nineteen and she came from Innsbruck to be an invaluable help to the Chucklebodys of Uxbridge. Mr Chucklebody was entranced, for Sonya brought her own maid's uniform with her, which was like a delicious something out of a French farce. Someone had told her it was the standard outfit for all au pair girls.
Mrs Chucklebody wasn't as entranced as Mr Chucklebody, who began to take days off from his business in order not to miss too much of Sonya sweeping the carpet and looking full of Continental oo-la-la. Efficient as well as delicious, she's brought order to the household chores for Mrs Chucklebody and very photogenic stocking-tops back into the life of Mr Chucklebody, who thought they'd gone for ever.
Working in a London florists, GILLIAN YATES represents 1975 flower power at its most irresistible.
It's easy to walk into her shop to buy a modest bouquet for your girlfriend, and it's even easier to stay there talking about hothouse carnations, the artistic delights of flower arrangement and what an exquisite arrangement it would be if Gillian shared a bus ride with you on Sundays.
But it's not so easy to ignore the biffs in the back you get from the waiting customers. Try to grin and bear it, Fred.
Yes, okay, we know DIANA REED is shaped in the conventional but entrancing way of all glamorous girls. We know her statistics of 37-24-36 are delightful but not unusual. What is unusual is Diana’s chief outdoor interest. It isn’t muscular beach men, it’s landscape gardening.
It's what?
Yes, we know what you mean.
One girl who comes and goes as her job takes her here, there and elsewhere is ANNETTE FRENCH.
Annette was one of the first of the many recent Scottish models who’ve been featured in our magazines and it’s no effort at all to photograph her again and again and again.
It’s different with elephants. When you’ve seen one elephant you’ve seen them all. And let’s face it, when you’ve photographed any elephant you’ve got an image there’s no need to multiply. A photograph of any elephant is as educative and as illuminating as a hundred photographs of a hundred elephants.
A hundred photographs of Annette represent a hundred different aspects of photogenic allure.
Girls are different in a way that elephants are not different.
It’s very pleasing to realise that.
Computer operator SALLY RANDALL has got lovely long hair and eye-catching statistics of 37-23-35.
She’s good at judo, expert at crossword puzzles and she scintillates on the dance floor. And when there’s a long-haired dog called Corky around she also has to be good at sweeping up the hairs he sheds over the carpet.
She’s more than good at this as you can see, she’s gorgeous.
That, as all of you who’ve been to Italy know, means Moira, me lovely, you’re dear to me tender eyes, so you are. If you’ve been to Italy enough or stayed over when you should have returned home, you may indeed have clapped your dazzled optics on lustrous MOIRA ORFEI, one of the bewitching beauties currently captivating the Italian film scene. Moira is so good on the eyes it hurts. Which is another way of saying, “Stop me, Bertie, what fragrant delectability—it made me mince pies feel like hot velvet.”
