The Fag Hag was taking a casual stroll down memory lane today with some glittering London media pals when the subject turned to nostalgia and those lovely carefree childhood games we used to play back in the day when grandads gave kids Werthers Originals rather than STD’s.
‘Do you remember elastics?’ cried one pretty blonde lady. ‘Oooh yes elastics!’ cooed the ladies prettily exchanging stories about cotton socks and jumping around. ‘Do you remember Star Wars cards?’ cried the boys. ‘Oooh yes Star Wars cards,’ everyone replied, shedding a little tear of emotion over Yoda and his love of a Nicole Farhi hessian wrap coat.
‘Hey, do you remember brothels?’ piped up Fag Hag. The ensuing silence made me feel like Gary Glitter at the Great Ormond Street Christmas party. It turned out no one remembered brothels. ‘Just me and Fag Hag sister then,’ I gulped. Of course, I then had to explain what exactly happened in brothels. Well what did they think happened?
The prossies were dressed and lined up (Sindy, Barbie, Daisy, Pippa and a small witch were our most popular girls), and the Johns (a Ken doll, an Action Man, a giant cuddly lion, a Henry VIII doll and a wooden policeman with solid swinging arms) got themselves ready…
There was also a madame (who, if memory serves me correctly, was played by a tiny plastic grandmother from the dolls house, not unlike Norman Bates in mother drag) who encouraged the girls to rehearse their client lingo: ‘Repeat after me – one, two, three: take it off, take it all off’.
As my pals exchanged horrified glances one eventually stuttered, ‘And what did your parents say whilst all this was going on?’ ‘Oh they didn’t mind,’ I replied. ‘As long as we didn’t cross the line by involving the ceramic Shakespeare figurine, my dad was fine’.