Upon entering the pub, she was immediately confronted by a sea of women wearing what could only be described as one complete outfit between them. It seemed as though modesty was a word foreign to their vocabulary, and understanding. Not that it deterred the plethora of males from cruising around with a ‘child in a sweet shop’ smile plastered on their face.
“What do they see in them?” she thought, moving steadily towards the bar. “These were the kind of women that promise themselves, ‘new year new me’ each January, yet forget to tell their vaginas.”
Any thoughts of competing within this particular gene pool was immediately dismissed.
“A pint please,” she called out to the barman as he passed her stood waiting. It seemed inevitable that he would ignore her in favour of a young almost topless brunette further along.