Tuesday, 12 June 2012


Dearly beloved...

For us, any Saturday could be the best day or it could also be the worst!

The best; because it’s the day when we’re in the spotlight, the centre of attention, when everybody wants to see us, when we might get a new partner, the start of a new life.

The worst; because anyone and everyone wants a feel, sliding their clumsy hands all over us, squeezing a bit too hard, even knocking us about sometimes. It can also be the worst day because although we may meet a new partner - there are no guarantees we’ll get along. Very much like an arranged marriage it could very easily go pear-shaped!

Take last Saturday for example. Mullet (the manager) was in bright and early - and believe me 10 a.m. is like the crack of dawn for him - because we had a load of new arrivals from Australia. There was lots of to-ing and fro-ing, polishing and arranging, all designed to take advantage of our various merits. Once Mullet was satisfied that our vital stats and curves were on display for all and sundry he opened up. It was another busy day with quite a few genuine seekers amongst the tyre-kickers, wannabes and know-alls.

The Aussies were very popular and a couple of them got snapped up straight away. Soon after a couple of guys came over, one of them looked cool and I was hoping I would catch his eye. Lo and behold he was beside me in next to no time. He obviously knew what he was doing, his touch firm yet gentle as he quietly admired my outline. I hoped this was going to be my day...

I hadn’t really taken any notice of his friend until he called him over saying he’d found something that might suit him. Suddenly my optimism burst like a bubble. The friend was a big, blubbery, overweight guy with thinning brown hair and a scraggly beard dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and tracksuit trousers in an attempt to hide his gut. His clumsy, sausage-like fingers were all over me in a flash. Then he laid me down on the floor and stood over me virtually drooling as his piggy little eyes devoured every inch of me.

Could my worst nightmare be about to come true? Was this slobby ape really thinking of taking me home with him? Even worse, was he planning to lie on top of me and attempt a ride? Why me? What had I done to deserve this cruel fate?

‘Surely one of the Australians would suit you better,’ I wanted to scream.

Then, almost as if in answer to my prayers, his friend, the cool guy said, ‘Maybe on second thoughts this is more up your street,’ as he pulled one of my taller, broader neighbours aside. The ‘Slob’ greedily turned his attentions away from me toward the brightly coloured American his friend was offering. Relief flooded through me. I was born to fly, to be a thing of beauty in this world. Oozing with potential, my role is to nurture triumphs, encourage feats of daring and meet fresh challenges. I was created with a true destiny in mind. I certainly wasn’t supposed to be paired up with some fat oaf with more money than brains, sentenced to a lifetime of floundering mundanity.

Luckily the Slob had fallen for the charms of our American friend and Cool Guy expertly picked me up to put me back in the rack. But he seemed to take his time, and having checked my numbers again, he spun me around and easily lifted me by a rail as he gauged my weight and balance.

‘Not bad at all.’ he murmured. ‘Hey Nobby,’ he called over to the Slob, ‘I think you’ve made the right choice there,’ and then almost to himself he muttered ‘... and I might just come back later for another look at this beauty.’

Yes, and it does shame me slightly, but I can honestly say it was with a huge sigh of relief that I watched the startled look of horror on the brightly coloured American’s face as Nobby the Slob tucked her under his fleshy arm and made his way out of the surf shop.

Based on a conversation with Andy Garner.

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