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 happ...
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