Actually, only the girl is Austrian the background is West Germany, where M A N J A P E R U C C I A is studying to become a ballerina. Manja has great hopes and high ambitions. She also has the essential talent and a natural gaiety which she eloquently portrays in every lively pose.
Next to her love of dancing Manja has a vivacious aptitude for enjoying life itself its fun being photographed.
The bird fluttered coyly about, tweeting and cooing, and the bee buzzed around waiting for the taste of honey. The bird got fed up with all the zooming and humming and delivered a short uppercut.
"Oh," thought the bemused bee as it plopped into the pond, "I often wondered what the crunch was—now I know."
That, of course, is the allegorical story of the modern birds and bees. You buzz around more than you should and clonk, you're on the floor and she's dragging you through the hall and out of the door and you're picked up with the rest of the garbage later.
An absolutely scintillating example of an irresistible British bird is VICKY ASHLEY, currently making a shining name for herself in the sumptuous studios of London photographers. With her vitalistics adding up to 37-23-36 she can't miss. She could have missed if she'd stayed with her job as a manicurist and beautician, but a bee in the shape of a photographer popped in for a trim one day and went away all fragile. However, Vicky took him up on his offer of a sitting and his fragility went away. He had discovered unimperishable beauty, a knockout bird of vivid brilliance.
But his fragility came back when Vicky told him that soon she would be winging her way to Australia.
"Don't go," he said, "think of all those sharks."
"I'll eat them for breakfast," said Vicky.
Girl with a good book is pin-up favourite CHRISTINE BARNETT.
This should go some way towards proving that Christine has an eye for the written word.
It should also help to convince the sceptics that pin-up girls really do know a book when they see one.
And the fact that Christine fell off the chair while reading this one wasn’t because she wasn't used to books it was just that the book happened to be a darned heavy one.
In days of old When nights were cold wall-to-wall carpeting was something you only found in Persian harems. Nothing was too good for those voluptuous Persian concubines.
It was far more humdrum elsewhere. On Victorian Friday nights the bath would be brought into the kitchen and filled with hot water. In you'd get with a great big square of soap and a scrubbing brush.
While allowing for certain differences brought about by progress, we must say that if any Victorian Friday night ever looked like JANET DE BOLLET looks, it could have been altogether delicious.
"Yes, it is a wee bit cramped,” said Janet in her Streatham kitchen, "but if the Victorians managed, then so can I.”
Having trouble with the high fence is JULIE SCOTT a typically bonny Scot, incidentally for she's got to get over it one way or another.
Ah, well, it’s simple enough for hikers in shorts and rucksacks, but not so simple in frilly skirts and a strong breeze. Nevertheless, you can see why Julie has won shapely leg competitions!
On which note, we’ll leave Julie in contemplation of the fact that in due course she’s got to climb back again. Pity we’ve got to depart in haste, but we forgot to stop the milk.
Model with the cute curves is TERRY PETERS. A lassie from Lancashire, Terry now lives in London, and needs no special diet to keep her figure nicely symmetrical at 36-23-36. We don't know if she has a taste for Lancashire hot-pot, but if she has all we can say is that it seems to do her the world of good.
Yes, indeed, It’s JANETTE GOODMAN, too, who has fallen for the current old-fashioned look, which only goes to show that fashion is something a bright girl can’t afford not to be seen in.
This seems to indicate that yesterday’s long look can be today’s top look, but there you are—what’s new is new even if it’s old.
Janette should know. As a fashion model she has to be up with the leaders, never mind what they’re wearing in a Persian market.
This “how-do-I-look” smile from Janette is kind of rhetorical—for she’s sure she looks good. Let’s face it, she’s in the fashion.
Glamorous indeed is Bristol housewife ELIZABETH GAMMAGE. Elizabeth is happily married and the mother of two beautiful children. And curvaceously photogenic.
Elizabeth's statistics are 38"- 24"- 35". Are there any other mums who photograph so glamorously ?
Holding down her current job as a cute maid is ANGELA FRANCES. She’s only just about holding it down because ma'am is a highly demanding mistress with her finger perpetually on the buzzer. Poor Angela gets into a regular tizzy, and the house is always echoing to her plaintive calls of “Coming, ma'am—coming!"
On this occasion the buzzer buzzed peremptorily for more tea. Well, there was no trouble in pouring it out. That’s a fairly simple operation for the dumbest maid, and our Angela may be cute but certainly not dumb.
Anyone rushing to serve ma’am with tea is liable to slip up with the tray. Even Angela. But not everyone takes a dive as attractively as she does.
Well, with the tea all over the floor, what can a girl do now except wait for ma’am to fire her? “I think,” said Angela, “that I’ll go back to being a secretary.”
"Excuse me, dearest," called the unwanted male voice through the frontdoor letter-box, "but I've come about your electric iron."
"I'm sure it must be very pressing," called back ZOE WEST, London secretary with green eyes and a way of slaying men from the Electricity Board, "but you'll have to call back later. I'm just about to take a shower."
"Well, if you won't be embarrassed, I won’t either," called the voice a little hoarsely. "I like a shower myself. I usually take mine in April, but if there's room in there I'll take it earlier this year."
What a pusher, thought Zoe. It was no use arguing with that kind of nutcracker, so she went into the hall, aimed the nozzle of the washing-up detergent container through the letter-box and squirted him a faceful. He staggered back, lurched into the street and the heavy rain turned him into a foaming miracle.
Scotland is the country where you'll find the colourful heather in all its wild beauty, and where there's heather there are kilts and other things entirely Scottish.
George Pumpkin—what a funny name—went up to Scotland for a holiday once. He hardly noticed the heather because the place was full of bonny birds. He’s still up there and his firm keeps writing to him asking him when he's coming back. So does his girl friend. But George is quite happy, thank you.
So would you be if you had girls like VICKI MUNRO to look at every day.
Vicki is nineteen and a fashion model.
But despite all the elegant houha of fashion modelling there's nothing Vicki loves more than outdoor sports like tennis and netball, which she plays with such bang-up enthusiasm that all the other girls keep gasping, "Och, my eye." Which is Scottish for "Oh, corks."
There's no pin-up girl quite like RUTH CAVENDISH.
Well, that's what all her fans say. And her fans are so fanatical you're chancing your life if you argue with them. You get slung off Tower Bridge or dropped from Nelson's hat. Nelson's hat is so far from the ground in Trafalgar Square that from the time you get dropped to the time you hit the flagstones the pigeons have flown round in six circuits.
Ruth is having a lovely life. She's a cashier and the most infectiously delicious brunette you ever clapped your peepers on. She's as Scottish as Flora MacDonald and as curvy as Clara Bow.
Clara Bow? Who's she?
Sorry, we forgot you didn’t go in for pre-war birds, only for modern swingers like Ruth.
Wow! Caught in the rolling drums of a Berlin funfair—little Willi is keeping his feet, but sister Suzy isn’t so sure about hers! Ah, well, it’s all in the fun of the fair and Suzy is bound to be swept off her feet sometime in her sweet life-
"Well, so long, Hortense," said Humphrey, "I'm off now."
"You've been off since you took that assault course in 1944,” said his wife. "See you in a couple of months," said Humphrey.
"Oh no you don't," said Hortense, holding him back by his ear, "you'll see me same as usual when you come home from the gravel pits."
"I've changed me vocation," said Humphrey, "I'm off on a mission to Majorca."
"Top secret?" said Hortense, twisting his ear anti-clockwise. It hurts more that way.
"Hardly," said Humphrey, not minding the pain because of the semiconscious bliss that pervaded him. "I'm just going to spend my time looking for FO 777. No, leggo me ear, I'm all agog."
"What's FO 777—a pre-war Bentley?" asked Hortense.
"It's Female Operative No. 777," replied Humphrey, "and my mission is to find her in Majorca before some other swine finds her first.”
"That's not going to take you a couple of months," said his wife.
"I reckon to find her in a week," said Humphrey, "the rest of the time is for social bliss."
"I thought so,” said Hortense. "Come here," she said and yanked him indoors, belted him stupid and then made him stand in a corner until all his hot romantic flushes had died down.
Humphrey, you see, had heard that Yorkshire girl GLORIA GENE was going to Majorca, and as Gloria is a honey-eating cracker who looks marvellous in a Majorcan bikini measuring 36-24-36, Humphrey didn't want to be left out of all the joys of playing beach ball with her. It was Hortense who sabotaged him.
Wives are lovely and protective.
Gloria is not only shapely, but she keeps in shape by enjoying all the vigour of an outdoor life, and among her pursuits is a love of swimming in natural waters, not pools. Her home town is Goole in Yorkshire.
