A bunch of chaps at an Irish accountancy firm are in hot water for compiling a "top ten" of new female recruits on the basis of who might provide the best sport. Apparently it's not on according to a stuffy old package from some sort equality organisation who's obviously just jealous as she would have no chance of making the first team herself.
Well it's a sign of the times I suppose. These feminist types are everywhere, all short hair cuts and cardigans, buying their daughters tool boxes for Christmas instead of dolls houses and so on. It's enough to make you weep.
It's tricky to know what to make of this sort of thing, but I'll give it a go. Rather than pick a top ten, for now I'll just exclude the three who don't make the grade; for me they have to be numbers 2, 5 and 6 and I'll explain why if you'll indulge me:
Number 2 is far too orange - usually these fake tans are a sign of a poor complexion and this is usually brought about by eating too much cake...ergo, she'll be fat soon. So ta-tah number 2 run along if you can.
Number 5 looks far too prudish for my tastes. I shouldn't think she'd even give the fire a poke. No wonder accountancy appealed to her. And finally number 6 by gad what a monster! I have an almost phobic inability to adopt the firing position with any strumpet with hands bigger than a chimpanzees. Call me shallow, but it's how I am.
Oh and I think for the record number 11 would be my number 1 as it were. A spot of double-entry with that young filly would be just the ticket to keep the blood circulating on these cold Autumnal evenings what? Tally-ho.
1 comment:
I'd normally make a comment like: "I'd like to spunk all over No.7's face until it resembled a chelsea bun", but on the day when my mate Neal is having his tackle neutered, it's far too painful to think about sexy stuff.
Post a Comment