World Cup...

... and world class knickers.

(The following is taken with permission from a conversation between myself and Tinkerbell)

Tink's boyfriend, the lovely docile PeterPan (yes, the one who's always a young one at heart) went to Germany for the World Cup. Tink was somewhat reluctant for him to go given that he's now with a group of Very Blokey Males, in the event that Boys that are Away Will Most Certainly Play.

Tink, apart from having a lovely complexion, also has immaculate taste in undergarments. Once, not 2 weeks after I first met her, she dragged me off (okay I went willingly) to Selfridges to try on a demi-corset which she then put aside for PPan to purchase for her. The rationale was that PPan loved undergarments, but not as much as he liked to rip them off her. As a result, it was decided that a very very expensive pair was on the cards, so instead of the animalistic 'ripping off', they would be removed with the utmost care and hence, Win-Win situation.

So, corset tried-and-tested, Tink took it to the counter to be put on reserve. Bitch Woman who Wanted Money asked very pointedly why said boyfriend couldn't pay for it then and there, looking at me very crossly while she tried to enunciate syllable by syllable in her faux-posh voice. Tink just threw her luscious mane of hair back and retorted that I was Gay Best Friend, and not one who would try to Get Into Her Knickers.

Fast Forward

(Assuming now PPan now has a taste of expensive lingerie...)

Tink and I were at Alice's BF's birthday on Saturday. Tink wails that PPan is in Germany watching the, erm, legball, I mean, football. The night before she'd received a phonecall from PPan, saying that the Wild Boys had gone off after the game in search of Ladies of The Night.

Tink: 'What will I do if he meets an Aryan Dream?' (wailing)

Me: 'Erm, you mean Aryan Nightmare?

Tink: 'Oh, I do hope not...'

Me: 'Well, I don't think that Germany sells v v v posh knickers, so PPan would be repulsed by having to look at cheap pants, let alone touch them...'

Tink: 'Oh, darling, he'd get a rash if he was within twenty yards of bad lingerie!'

Me: 'Indeed...'

...much much later...

I was thinking how horrid synthetic knickers would be, when OH pointed out that I had lycra-blend pants...

I broke out in a rash.