Friday, 30 March 2012

For Adults Only

A copy of this found its way into the bookshop today.

It brought to mind two stories.

The first takes place one Sunday night in Benjy's nightclub in Mile End in 1983.

I had gone there alone and was lurking in a corner. Before I knew what was what, Miss Diana Fluck approached. Pulled me to my feet, pressed my head between her ample bosoms and we danced the night away.

You may have danced with a boy, who danced with a girl, who danced with the Prince of Wales... But I danced with my head between Diana Dors' tits.

The second story involves a former vicar of St Mark's Swindon.

 He is dead now so I needn't trouble you with his name.

Being a good girl of the parish, Diana Dors had agreed to open the Parish Fete.

"Remember Father", said the Churchwarden. "It's 'Fluck'. Don't, whatever you do, forget the 'L'."

"I won't" said Father. He proceeded to introduce the parish to Miss Diana Clunt.

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