Don't you think that Calendar Girls overpromises a bit.
It constantly tours the country with a rotating cast of various minor female celebrities who are clearly slightly tantalised by the naughtiness supposedly on offer. And obviously keen to cackle their way through the local post-show drinks.
Their tasteful nudity dresses the front on our theatre whats-ons. Including recently.. Dot Cotton - a gnarled woman in her mid-eighties.
Surely enough is enough.
But there a few younger bits flimsily strewn around.
Frankly there is someone for everybody.
Necrophiliacs are not the only ones catered for.
But of course it wont be 'as advertised'.
We are not going to see Letitia Dean spreadeagled, or touching her index finger to her lips while provocatively slightly looking behind her in a suitably dirty manner.
We are probably going to see very little of that.
Overpromising you see.
We are not going to see Lynda Bellingham bending over the dishwasher as though she's dropped a screwdriver behind the hot and cold entry points.
And we are probably not going to see the latest half-wit from I'm a Celebrity Jungle, trapping her fingers in the cutlery drawer forcing her to jump as her nipples instantaneous bounce up into a suitably gravity-defying position (are you listening Dot?).
In fact, if I may use a broader brush, in case of any domestic incidents, we are not going to see any at all of our oh-so-risque (insert ironic emoticon) volunteers go arse over tit.
If anything all we are going to see is a light comedic effort with a generous helping of angst and melodrama mixed in.
So when I go to the advertising standards authority, I just want to know.
Who's with me?
It constantly tours the country with a rotating cast of various minor female celebrities who are clearly slightly tantalised by the naughtiness supposedly on offer. And obviously keen to cackle their way through the local post-show drinks.
Their tasteful nudity dresses the front on our theatre whats-ons. Including recently.. Dot Cotton - a gnarled woman in her mid-eighties.
Surely enough is enough.
But there a few younger bits flimsily strewn around.
Frankly there is someone for everybody.
Necrophiliacs are not the only ones catered for.
But of course it wont be 'as advertised'.
We are not going to see Letitia Dean spreadeagled, or touching her index finger to her lips while provocatively slightly looking behind her in a suitably dirty manner.
We are probably going to see very little of that.
Overpromising you see.
We are not going to see Lynda Bellingham bending over the dishwasher as though she's dropped a screwdriver behind the hot and cold entry points.
And we are probably not going to see the latest half-wit from I'm a Celebrity Jungle, trapping her fingers in the cutlery drawer forcing her to jump as her nipples instantaneous bounce up into a suitably gravity-defying position (are you listening Dot?).
In fact, if I may use a broader brush, in case of any domestic incidents, we are not going to see any at all of our oh-so-risque (insert ironic emoticon) volunteers go arse over tit.
If anything all we are going to see is a light comedic effort with a generous helping of angst and melodrama mixed in.
So when I go to the advertising standards authority, I just want to know.
Who's with me?
