For the guys who don’t think they’ve had a meal unless there’s been a steak on the plate we recommend eating at a high-class restaurant in London. With any luck you’ll find yourself being waited on by MARY CONNOR. When Mary isn’t serving porter house steaks she’s taking long walks in the country. Any guy want to go in training?
Here, look where you’re putting your oar, Monty, that’s twice you’ve clouted me in me delicate earhole. You got something on your mind or something?
I say, who’s that, then? Here, don’t fall overboard yet, let’s get the perishing yacht moored first. I want to coincide with that dreamboat sailing in. Kindly give me all the necessary biographical jazz so that I don’t operate as a dead loss.
That’s it, then. Hand me all me spanking nautical impedimenta, Monty, I’m about to become an infatuated landlubber but I don’t want to look like one. Hand me also one adjustable spanner with which I may helpfully approach this incomparable dreamboat who is, I observe, having a mint of trouble with her automobile. Right, Monty, here we go then. Eh?
Oggle, oggle, oggle.
You—oggle—incompetent offspring of a Tibetan yak, where’d you put the -oggle oggle—gangplank?
Name of dreamboat - ANNETTE RIDGEWAY LE GREASLEY. Age - twenty years and delightfully shipshape. Lovely fore and aft and particularly when the sun’s shining. Dimpled, curvy, elegant.
In Edwardian days clubs used to be quiet havens where you could read your Times and forget all the complications attendant on your relationship with Edwardian women, who were always on about the necessity of getting you to church.
London club life has brightened up considerably since then. True, in many of them women are now accepted, which results in your complications always being with you, but you can’t have everything. In the Playboy Club of London all the femininity which so lights up the eyes of tired business tycoons is vested in the Bunnies, without whom life can never again be complete. Graceful, curvy, talented, intelligent, the Bunnies have reduced even further the number of men who think there’s nothing to compare with a good book.
Even old and reactionary baronets with club gout are beginning to think that a quiet two hours with the Times could be improved upon, but the first letter asking the editor to publish pin-ups has yet to appear.
Example of a graceful curvy, talented and intelligent Bunny is CATHERINE McDONALD DOLLY READ, and SHARON BYSOUTH
Married men will know how nice it is to come home to a cosy house and a chicken dinner and all that heartwarming dessert. One day some fortunate guy is going to come home to JANE PAUL, and for the first ten years he won’t care if he’s got chicken or a Danish open sandwich for dinner. He’ll just settle for the heart-warming dessert.
Well, it is getting a bit parky first thing in the mornings, isn’t it? So, what’s a girl to do except to make sure she keeps warm as she hurries for her train to town?
TRACEY COLLINS makes sure by going into her winter Long Johns, and warmer than that you won’t get unless you wear a rug. Who wants to run for a train in a rug? Who could?
So popular has MARIE GRAHAM become lately as one of our exclusive pin-up girls that she's right in the forefront of the glamour stakes, as it were.
Give us more of Marie. That's the heart- appealing cry we constantly hear. We can't help being utterly responsive because we're a bit far gone on Marie ourselves. She's just ever so delicious, like.
She's a Bournemouth girl, a secretary and a swinger.
She likes long boots, micro-minis and old- fashioned suspenders.
"Well, what was good enough for my Auntie Mayflower is good enough for me." she said.
What a funny name for an auntie. Mayflower. Why is she such a good example?
"She was in the Wrens," said Marie, "and looked lovely in her sailor hat."
Well, there must be a connotation somewhere.
Very frustrating indeed, as well as cosy and cute, are the long johns worn by SUSAN DOUGLAS.
A pin-up enthusiast is someone who takes his pin-ups seriously and pastes them all very carefully in a large album. Ordinary men take them out to wine and dine and send them flowers.
For the enthusiast, pin-up pictures of NICOLA TAYLOR are a must, and here is Nicola looking so delightful that any enthusiast would want to paste her in his album.
Well, there was this fabulously scintillating bird in the Berkeley-Square discotheque, and there was this shy but handsome six-footer from Palmers Green. The name of the lovely dolly was JULIE LANE, and the name of the handsome hunk was Edwin, and he was so taken with her that despite his embarrassing lack of confidence he had to introduce himself and find out if she was infatuated with him.
Then up came a reasonably-built guy, about five feet seven, and poked Edwin in the eye. Boy, it seemed, had already met girl, and Edwin was so obviously de trop that he went straight home to auntie. Julie, a lovely London model, was quite tickled. A girl likes to feel fellers can get emotional about her.
It’s regrettable to turn up at the wrong party and unfortunate if you kiss the wrong girl, but these things do happen and all you need to lightly pass them off is the right amount of aplomb. Aplomb is the ability to laugh lightly as the muscular bloke punches a hole in your head after catching you pinching his heart’s desire in a crowded discotheque. Then there’s that feeling of something quite silly happening to you as when you lean gracefully on the mantelpiece and the whole thing, including the marble clock, crashes into the fireplace.
Or like CHERRY LENNOX, university student, you can be strolling through the rural scene with your mind concentrating hard on your economics paper, and something really silly happens.
“Well, I mean,’’ said Cherry, “I wasn’t even doing anything and then swish, this twiggy thing sprang out and tried to use my skirt as an umbrella and it wasn’t even raining.”
“I didn’t know what to say except ‘oops’. I just felt silly. I mean, supposing it had been on the campus? I don’t know what I’d have done for aplomb, it’s not one of my subjects.”
“I fell over a skipping-rope once, but this is just too silly.”
Although PENNY JAMES looks exquisite in lingerie and goes beautifully with any kind of charming indoor decor, she’s really a land-lover.
Nothing Penny likes better than being on the farm, with the sun and the wind about her. Penny, in fact, is an open-air girl, she loves sport, is an excellent swimmer and haymaker.
It’s certainly given her a lovely healthy look and a shape that is just right in a polka-dot bikini. She measures 39"-24"-36".
It’s quite exhilarating this month to introduce an undeniable bevy of pin-up girls, whose photographs are so sweet we haven’t had to take any sugar in our coffee for a week. (It doesn’t half taste funny but somehow we don’t care). The girls are as follows:
LYNDA FARRELL, girl we’d like to row the Atlantic with.
DEBORA STEWART, girl we’d like to explore the Amazon with.
SUSAN FAIRFAX, girl to whom we'd give half our etchings.
DAWN WARWICK and LIZ McEWEN, whom we’ll probably dream about.
What happened?
Nothing very much. VANDA VANE-DOTSON only lost her skirt in a bottle with the bramble bushes. Vanda is a country girl and it could happen to anybody in her kind of country where the brambles are an everyday hazard.
Her name is TERI MARTINE, she was born in Southend, lives in London, loves the swinging scene, Continental travel, good food and good movies. She’s twenty-one, her vitalistics are 37-24-36 and one day when the call of her own home and garden is too strong to resist she’s going to get married and settle down.
How lovely. Even lovelier for him.
This is nothing to do with people who’ve got wanderlust and kick around the world in restless pursuit of they know not what.
This is to do with local kicking around. To kick around it’s wiser to wear boots, then you can kick footballs, brown-paper parcels and bandits who try to snatch your bag in the supermarket.
Our lovely MARILYN WARD has just bought a pair. She bought them for their geary, modern look. She had no thought of using them to boot footballs into the air. Still, When she saw one in the garden she had a go. How did she get on?
“I missed it,” said Marilyn, “and fell flat on my back.”
