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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.
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