Something in the way he moves makes me sorry
I'm a lady." Baccara
Where have all the ladies gone? That's the question I asked myself today whilst I was out shopping in town. I had just finished my little jaunt around Home Bargains and was waiting outside the doorway for Carmen.
|This woman bares a striking resemblance to Paul McCartney|
Also waiting on a busy street corner and within spitting distance from myself, was this ill bred and uncouth woman, wearing grey track suit bottoms, tucked into ugg boots, one floral tattooed hand was clutching a child's buggy with a brown baby in it, the other was holding a roll-up, she looked impatient and eager to be off somewhere, her nostrils were flared and her mouth looked like a mean slit. I noticed her gaze was set firmly on two men talking to each other on the other side of the road, I also noticed she had a floral tattoo behind one of her ears, her hair was cut short, the top layer of hair was bleached without using any toner, with high levels of colour graduations at the back, I suppose an artist would call yellow ochre to burnt sienna, burnt umber to mouse, her natural hair colour. I didn't have to hold my breath when I passed by her, because what she shouted at the top of her fog horn voice, for all to hear, took my breath away. "Oy Carl! Get your cock outa Pete's arse and get yer fucking sen over ere now!" Can you imagine the lovely Fiona Bruce or the late Noele Gordon using language like that on the street? No! Neither can I.