We don't know her boss, but we do know that in GINA SCOTT he has a model secretary. Gina is as efficient at her job as a joy to the eye, and Gina is very much a joy to the eye.
Gina's vitalistics are 36"-22”-36", she's nineteen and swimming is her favourite sport and parties her favourite recreation.
We've been asked so often for a feature on MAGGIE McCULLY that in the end we really went digging for photographs of this photogenic delight.
It was what they call a successful dig.
For new readers who expressed so much interest in her, this is our Maggie. She's a secretary and a lover of summer holidays in hot sunshine. She's dark, brown-eyed and beautiful.
And she loves modern beat, good films, historical novels and the view of Hampstead Heath on a spring morning.
Don't get too infatuated, Ernest, it won't do you any good. Just admire her from afar and stick to the girl in the grocery shop. That way you could get extra sugar.
It's not that JACOUELINE BLAIR has been strictly trained in the matter of polishing and dusting. It's just that when mother went out to do the weekend shopping she said to Jackie, "Do my housework while I'm out, darling, and you can borrow the car tomorrow."
Jackie doesn't mind being the victim of bribery when the end product is as high on her list as that, so she didn't waste time getting into an argument, she just grabbed mop, duster, cleaner and broom.
Naturally, if a girl can sit around and manage a mop at the same time, why not? There's always the easier way of doing a domestic chore. As long as the results satisfy houseproud mum, it hardly matters.
Who should come out with it but JOAN RUSSELL.
She couldn't come out when it was raining because she wasn't dressed for it. Well, there was a fairy at the bottom of her garden in the Scottish Lowlands, you see, and this fairy was dressed in gossamer white with dainty wings. Joan wanted to get to know her better and the fairy, whose name was Louella, said she could only co-operate if she dressed as a fairy herself. Then they could flit around together and get quite chummy.
So as soon as the sun came out and conditions were right Joan danced into the light and flitted about and made fairy cooing noises. But there was no Louella. She'd forgotten. She'd gone off to have a cream and cheese tea with the fairy queen.
The trouble is that fairies today aren't as reliable as they used to be. They flit off just like that. Joan never did get to know Louella, though she'd set her heart on being fitted for a pair of wings. Life is full of disappointments.
Texans don't often leave Texas, you know, because who wants to? What can they offer anywhere else that they haven't got in Texas and more of?
You heard about Joe Pongo, of course. He was an exception. He set off on his horse one day to ride to the border and spend a couple of years in Mexico City where he intended to carve Indian figures out of wood. Six weeks later he found he was still in Texas. He rode on. And on. In the end he realised the place was just too big, and they hadn't invented planes, so he stayed put and devoted himself to making boots for the American Cavalry.
Then, a lot more recently, a different kind of Texan called NICOLE SHELBY decided there must be other places in the world. As Texas was so big, she thought it would be a change to go to somewhere little. So, she came to Britain.
She was tickled. It couldn't be helped; the whole place was crowded with people. She'd never been tickled in Texas, there's a square mile of elbow room for everyone.
Anyway, Nicole got a work permit, bought herself some scintillating mini-dresses and let London see what a glamorous Texan really looked like. London took a deep breath and surrendered. And Nicole took a flat in Knightsbridge.
Since then, you've seen Nicole in any amount of TV series, and if you've ever wondered where she got those long, lovely legs from, well now you know, she got them from Texas.
Some market researcher asked CHERI SCOTT the question. It was all to do with something neurotic.
"Well," said Cheri, an outspoken Scot, "it's my opinion that men leave home to go to work, to attend a football match, to chase the milkman, to go for a pint or to post a letter. After that they either get back home on time or they get back late, and if they get back late, they get thumped, and if you keep standing in my way and make me late you'll get thumped too."
That's what they call very succinct.
Happily, resident in the downtown fringes of London is MARTA CUBISOVA, looking every inch a swinger.
Actually, Marta is from Prague.
A Czechoslovakian actress, she decided to get out from behind the Iron Curtain and come to Britain.
"Welcome indeed," said the man from the ministry. He was the one in charge of looking over refugees. He had the most trying job to keep it all informal as he was dying to invite Marta out to dinner. Ministry men aren't all computerised subtracting machines.
Marta was enchanted with her welcome and as it wasn't long before the London photographers were queueing up to photo- graph her, everything became quite lovely.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer girl.
Before we were indescribably smitten by a fair maid from afar, we were thinking of settling down before our winter fireside in a state of soporific hibernation.
Then we saw JUNE GORDON. She was just going home to Scotland. So, we cancelled the order for winter fuel and gave up all idea of hibernating. A rush of vibrant corpuscles to the head had sent us all agog and it was like Spring in the park again.
In other words, we're off.
We're either off to Scotland or off our head.
June is a secretary and the girl we'd most like to be lost in the typing pool with. What grace, what charm, what fair elegance.
As the coalman said when a hundredweight sack fell on his head, "I've gone all fragile.' It's a feeling of being far, far away.
