Everybody's At It

On my way back from town this morning, I saw on the pavement in front of me a portly young lady dressed in an excessively short PVC skirt and thigh-length boots. Bit odd, I thought. As I approached, she smiled at me. I smiled back. I then realised that her gaze was directed just past my right ear, and I turned round to see a man on the other side of the street taking photos. This could mean one of two things – either I’m about to be blackmailed (which would be a bit pointless given that I’ve just lost my job and have no money) or I was walking through the preliminary stages of a porn shoot.

I live in Reading. For those of you who don’t know it – it’s not exactly known for its glamour. In fact, if you asked me to give an example of something that was definitely not glamorous, and had no chance of being glamorous even if you shat celebrities on it and paved the streets with Paris Hilton, I would probably direct you to my home town. It is, in short, not the place I would choose to stage anything intended to be mildly erotic. Having said that, you can find a niche for just about anything these days. What this would have been for – Kerbside Sluts or Horny Pavement Plumpers, I just don’t know. But I’m still a little surprised to see it going on down my street. If I come across the photographer next time I’m in town I’ll ask him where the photos are being published and then I’ll let you, dear reader, know where you can see them. You might even be able to see my house in the background.

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