7 July - Burlesque & Single Blokes

A lucky night. For some reason I go to the burlesque night in Hackney with 3 men and once upon arrival I spy 2 more good friends, my skiing pals, which brings the total of my entourage to 5, different ages and looks. Am a lucky girl, but of course am taken. So my mission this evening is to facilitate encounters between my testosterone heavy friends and some of the local damsels. Gareth in particular is taken by a blonde slip of a girl who is a Mossie cutie and already surrounded by admirers. I ask him for a tenner and within minutes return with her name, Jane, and her admission that Gareth is not bad. Basically when she turned to look at the 5 of them standing in a row by the dance floor, I said ‘I quite like the tall one on the right myself’ and she agreed. Armed with this info he should have been well on his way but alas, at 30 odd, he’s still shy. So he kept circling around but never plucking up the courage of talking to her. An hour later or so, she was kissing and beyond (hand down his trousers, hand up her skirt) sat in a corner with a drainpipe jeans clad young rocker. Oh no!!! As I saw Gareth making his way across, I tried to protect him from the heinous view of her tonsils and steered him away, but, check this out for manly solidarity, Chris delighted in making him turn and be greeted by the view of his defeat.
By this point things were getting to a close and though I found the burlesque on display to be very amateurish and not v. titillating, (though I’d love to learn tassels spinning if I had the time) the boys had been sweating and dancing and drinking and were clearly worked up. The chase moved to Anna the girl in the white adidas top, bare back, no bra and pert nipples, glasses (not v. burlesque, why do clubs let people in who haven’t bothered to dress up in the slightest?) At fifteen minutes to closing time seasoned Paul did a Ian (who I've watched routinely take the girl from under Damian and Gareth's noses) as by 40 you have learnt to move in even if the pack is salivating all around you, and I thought he was in! But no deal and he was rebuffed. Still, he tried. Sindri and Chris in the meantime would have gone far with the eastern European girls met in the queue to the ladies, had it not been for my company. A lovely moment of minor competition ensued but the look on my face sent the Russians away. These men are with me, was my message. The evening ended with Sindri ‘It’s a very long story, if you drive me to Peckham I will tell you’ attempt at getting a lift to what I consider outer Siberia. He’s a good raconteur and I was tempted, but I dropped him off at London Bridge nevertheless.