So I meet this cute girl called Lola.
Like the song, I say.
That's right. She smiles at me. And I'm a bit of a showgirl too.
I run through the lyrics in my head - the champagne that tastes like cherry cola, dancing in the club in old Soho, the squeeze so tight it nearly broke the spine.
Are we thinking of the same song, I say. You know, Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.
Her smile fades.
She says to me, The song about the transvestite you mean?
Wednesday 27 October 2010
Tuesday 12 October 2010
A love story
There once was a beautiful young hand maiden to the Queen. With the face of an angel and a laugh that set fairies to dancing she caught the young prince's eye. But alas! He was a prince, and she a mere hand maiden; his love for her could never be.
Daily he would travel to the mountain lakes and leap naked into the icy water to cool his ardour. Unfortunately this caught the eye of a local farmer who sold the pictures to a sleazy newspaper. Soon the image of his pasty white body was all around the tiny kingdom, and he, a laughing stock. People stopped to point their fingers and laugh, and it didn't matter how much he protested that the lake was freezing, they would still snigger.
The King disowned the Prince - the laws on public nudity were very strict at the time. He was now a common man, just a serf, like the hand maiden. His love could be!
Before he left the castle he went down on one knee to her.
"I love you, with all of my soul. Come with me?"
And the girl with the face of an angel looked at him. Where once he had dressed in the finest of silks and his hair was sculpted with the smoothest of Brylcreems now he wore sack cloth and his hair was slicked back with cooking oil. He wasn't that good looking either.
She said to him, "So you're not a Prince anymore, and you're not rich. You don't have a fancy house, or a big horse, and I've seen the pictures. I think I'll stay here in the warm, if it's all the same to you."
Daily he would travel to the mountain lakes and leap naked into the icy water to cool his ardour. Unfortunately this caught the eye of a local farmer who sold the pictures to a sleazy newspaper. Soon the image of his pasty white body was all around the tiny kingdom, and he, a laughing stock. People stopped to point their fingers and laugh, and it didn't matter how much he protested that the lake was freezing, they would still snigger.
The King disowned the Prince - the laws on public nudity were very strict at the time. He was now a common man, just a serf, like the hand maiden. His love could be!
Before he left the castle he went down on one knee to her.
"I love you, with all of my soul. Come with me?"
And the girl with the face of an angel looked at him. Where once he had dressed in the finest of silks and his hair was sculpted with the smoothest of Brylcreems now he wore sack cloth and his hair was slicked back with cooking oil. He wasn't that good looking either.
She said to him, "So you're not a Prince anymore, and you're not rich. You don't have a fancy house, or a big horse, and I've seen the pictures. I think I'll stay here in the warm, if it's all the same to you."
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