‘He was blinded by the blackness of my long silk stockings…’ Phwoar! Dancers pout suggestively, undressing me with their eyes. Of course, they can’t actually see a thing, dazzled by bright spotlights, but it seems like they are seducing me, and me alone.
Great video feed follows them, from a filthy angle, up the stairs, in their school blouses and fishnets. Overdressed, I agree.
We’re heading for a climax – not necessarily musical – when the lighting director cuts in over the headphones: ‘How far’s the drive to Hannover tonight?’ I try to ignore her, immersed in a wonderful world of my own, but then: ‘And where do we go after Vienna?’ Aagh, look in the tour itinerary, Kathy, like everybody else?
The mesmerising moment passes but there is more to come – namely the massive build-up to “Goldeneye”, in which we’re treated to a display by a young lady in a deliciously tight leotard.
It is The Girl with The Golden Bum, arching provocatively in her figure-hugging outfit. But the lighting director’s voice cuts in once again, humming the famous Bond theme tunelessly. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow night.
Now, more importantly, Namibian has made a faux pas. As you may have surmised, I am partial to the odd cup of tea; for staying awake at night, however, tea is pretty hopeless. Coffee is the thing.
So guess what Namibian has gone and done now? Yes, he’s made a flask of tea for my overnight drive – and he has the temerity to complain that I haven’t washed out the thermos flask from two days ago. I think he’s slipping, you know. It hasn’t come to me buying my own kettle yet but..
Captain Birds Eye is cryptic again this morning – we’ve now arrived safely in Hannover – while eyeing a young lady with a face like a smacked bottom. She is a local girl, assisting with the unfurling of tablecloths, washing-up, peeling potatoes etc., in the catering room. The girl is quite simply fed up, probably with ageing, perverted truck drivers.
But Birds Eye is undeterred. ‘What she needs is some giggling pin,’ he says, his meaning as clear as mud. We look nonplussed. ‘Cockney rhyming slang,’ he explains, ‘like septic tank – yank; apples and pears – stairs; giggling pin – cock.’ Oh, honestly. How many more months of this tour must I endure?
You know how films sometimes announce that the views and comments within the motion picture are not necessarily those expressed or endorsed by the film-makers? Right, well you can apply that to this blog..