Arlene Jacanda

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Black Is Beautiful

That's what we keep hearing. Now we're seeing and seeing's believing. Believing comes in the shape of ARLENE JACANDA, who lives in the Wandsworth district of London.

Arlene is a dancer and has just taken to modelling. At the sweet age of nineteen she feels she has the time for both. and the money is nice too, man. Her shape curves in and out in the most eye-catching proportions, which happen to work out at 37-23-35.

She's fascinating, charming and full of fun. There ought to be a million just like her. It wouldn't half be good for the eyeballs.

Beautiful Britons No 252 - November 1976

Maureen Carson

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Well, That's What They're Wearing

"Excuse me, but I'd like one of those for my wife," said Mr. Casket, pointing to a nicely packaged corset on the lingerie counter.

"Yes, of course, sir," said the salesgirl, who happened to be MAUREEN CARSON, "and I'm sure you'll just love her in it."

"Half a mo," blushed Mr. Casket as he suddenly saw an illuminating illustration on the box, "is that all of it? Because if it is my wife will be more out of it than in."

"Well, that's what they're wearing, sir," said Maureen. "Ye gods, all this and the atom bomb," said Mr. Casket, "it doesn't half make one goggle."

Maureen smiled. She owned one of the corsets herself and as you can see it's designed to make everyone goggle, and in the nicest way, what?

Beautiful Britons No 232 - March 1975

Marie Graham and Nicola Taylor

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Togetherness

It wasn't all that psychedelic, really, just an afternoon out for two rather dishy housewives, MARIE GRAHAM and NICOLA TAYLOR. Nicola, as you'll know, is the one helping herself to a sit-down.

Still, it was a lot of fun. There wasn't really enough room for both of them to take a seat, so they just took turns.

They fell out a bit when Nicola fell off and said, "I didn't actually fall, I was pushed."

"Yes, well," said Marie, "you were taking my turn as well as your own, and my feet hurt after that long walk.'

They compromised at that and managed to share the chair after all. It was amicable togetherness then until Nicola folded Marie up in the perishing thing.

"Help," said Marie, "what shall we do now?" "Go home and get dinner ready for our marital mates," said Nicola.

Some husbands are dead lucky.

Span No 205 - September 1971

Jennifer Taylor

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Just Be Natural

If we can keep the scientific marvels from turning the grass black and making all the trees look exactly the same tall rectangles of wood with leaves eliminated, then the great outdoors will always look decently natural as long as there's no concrete around.

If you're not busy doing something else, look at JENNIFER TAYLOR now. Jennifer is just as naturally herself as you could wish. She's a natural as a housewife and a natural as a lovely. Long shining dark brown hair and the most delightfully abundant curvaceousness.

Jennifer lives in Bristol and around Bristol there is some of the loveliest country in Britain. So far, it's still lovely. So far, the scientific marvels haven't changed the shape of the trees. But if they ever do imagine what they might devise in the way of a new shape for natural wonders like Jennifer. Something oblong, perhaps.

What a shuddering thought.

Span No 207 - November 1971

Pauline Gough

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What's His Number?

It was a rainy day, so PAULINE GOUGH thought she'd call Freddie and find out whether he'd like to come over and play chess. "What's his number?" She looked it up.

It took quite a while. There were hundreds of Freddie Browns. She got through in the end. "Hello, is that Freddie?"

"Speaking. Who's that?"

"Pauline. Would you like to come over for some chess?”

"Eh? What?"

"Chess," said Pauline, "well, what with the rain and all.”

"Look, I'm a weightlifting champion, I'll come over if you've got some bars of iron you want shifting."

“I think you're the wrong Freddie," said Pauline.

"Well, I'll come round and then you can decide. What's your address, you gorgeous girl?"

Pauline hastily put the phone down. She's been off weightlifters ever since one trod on her foot.

Spick No 272 - July 1976

Lynn Remmers and Sandy Pullan

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Help!

Gad, the confusion.

And any moment there'd be a charabanc chockful of fellers going by, and every feller would have his eye glued not to LYNN REMMER'S chestnut-gold hairdo but to her pre-mini suspenders and her mum's stocking-tops. Well, her mum was the only close friend she knew who still wore stockings, and Lynn had borrowed a pair for her chum SANDY PULLAN too.

But pre-mini items all became confusion when Lynn got her skirt caught in the car door.

"Quick!" she begged Sandy.

"I'm doing my best," said Sandy, who wasn't, in fact. She was pushing instead of pulling, and the door stayed firmly shut on Lynn's skirt. And the postman was passing by.

"Nice," he said, looking at Lynn's stocking tops.

"No, go away, you cheeky thing," blushed Lynn, "and anyway, they're my mum's and she'd set the dog on you if she thought you were looking."

The postman had had some of the dog.

"Help," he said and hurried on his way.

And for the rest of the day, it was all sequestered calm for Lynn and Sandy, and they looked quite, quite charming.

Spick No 253 - December 1974