We sat at a small, round table next to the stage.
Our over-expensive drinks soon slopped and covered at least a third of it's surface.
It was obviously a ploy to get us, the customer, to buy more drinks.
As we sat there, I couldn't help noticing the tatty curtain that adorned the stage-front and stretched out a leg. Lifting the curtain with my foot,I discovered that no expense had been spared on the stage's construction.
Absolutely no expense whatsoever!
The stage was merely made up of pallets ... many stacks, piled five-high, of pallets placed next to each and covered with a planks.
It was then that I began to wonder just what kind of place Tom had brought me to.
When the lights dimmed ... well, everything went purple-ish ... the curtains (the main curtain, not the one hiding the pallets) I saw on stage a round plinth approximately five feet across.
Sticking out of it's centre, and disappearing up into the darkness beyond the cheap and tatty lighting, was a chrome pole.
"A pole dancing-club,Tom?", I said."You've brought me to a pole-dancing club?"
"Exotic entertainment is good for the soul", replied Tom as he sipped his drink.
"Oh God!", I sighed. "You know my wife will string me up by the crown jewels if she finds out about this, don't you?"
"Nonsense! It's part of our modern culture. Like ballet", said Tom and I knew he was being serious.
"You don't see ballet dancers dressed in nothing but a pair of tassels and a bit of cloth the size of a knotted piece of string!"
"Look" barked Tom. "Ballet dancers wear costumes that leave nothing ... NOTHING! ... to the imagination. And they charge you a fortune to watch 'em prancing about".
I did wonder at that point just what kind of ballet Tom had been frequenting.
"Anyway", Tom went on. "I got the tickets for nothing, so stop complaining!"
The music started.
"Why do they dance around a pole?" I wondered aloud.
"It's exotic! And it's wossname ... phallic!" said Tom. "That mean's it's supposed to represent a .... ".
"I know what it means".
I stared at the pole as a pair of legs started to appear out of the darkness at the top of the pole.
"It's rusty at the bottom! Not very 'phallic' that, is it? I'm pretty damned sure that mine, despite my age, isn't going to rust!"
A backside had slid into sight.
"Look at that ar...."
"Orange peel!" I said.
"Orange peel! That's what her backside reminds me of. 's all those dimply things. Whoa! Paunch!"
The slithering figure on the pole had descended half way revealing stretch marks and an abundance of, for want of a better description, relaxed stomach muscles.
"Ah!" said Tom.
"Not what you expected, Tom?"
"No ... yes ... no!"
The upper torso was now came into view as the dancer's feet hit the floor.
"Let's get out of here!" Tom said, standing up.
I glanced one more time at the red-headed, middle-aged woman that was now squeaking and pouting as she began to gyrate, bump and grind around the rusty pole,than I followed Tom to the exit.
"What's up Tom?" I called as I chased him. "Where're you going?"
"Out!" he cried.
On the street Tom turned to me and said "That was Brenda! The woman from the corner shop!"
He looked shocked!
"I'll never be able to buy my newspapers in that shop ever again!"
"I thought you liked Brenda"
"Are you kidding? Look what she does for a hobby!"
About This Blog
This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!
The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.
I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.
Have a look here too http://symdaddy-humour.blogspot.com/
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