Saucy Sorceress.
The first woman I
saw in underwear was Grotbags from Emu’s All-Live Pink Windmill Show.
It wasn’t a
sexual situation. I was too young for that. It was also completely accidental.
There’s no need to contact Operation Yewtree on my (or her) behalf.
I was a huge fan of Rod Hull as a child. So much so that I had my own Emu. By this, I mean I owned the puppet; an outsized bird was not an appropriate pet to keep in a modest
semi-detached house in Stevenage.
My love of The
Pink Windmill Show was all encompassing. I was desperate to see Emu in person, ideally whilst nestled in the armpit of my favourite puppeteer*. When he came to The
Gordon Craig Theatre my mum got us tickets. It was one of my first gigs and I
loved it.
(Little did I know I was about to see more than I'd bargained for.)
I was a member of
the theatre’s drama club and spent a lot of time backstage. So it was that,
during a break in our session later that week, I happened to walk into the quick-change
room as my favourite TV witch was in the midst of changing into her
outfit.
She was sat
facing the mirror in just her bra and pants. It was a shocking way to learn
that she wasn’t green all over.
I exited the room
as quickly as I could. My life was never the same again. I suppose it could have been
worse. At least I didn’t stumble across Rod Hull’s prosthetic arm, or a
limp and lifeless Emu. Then I would have truly needed therapy.
*By which I mean Emu, not me.