Properly propped up

We had a hilarious close last night to our cheeky little routine to "Guy What Takes His Time".

Whilst instructing our showgirls to dance facing each other so that they would be able to dance the routine anywhere "despite the destruction" (a small Freudian petticoat on my part - I meant to say "despite the distraction"), I soon realised that "dancing despite the destruction" was much nearer the mark.

We had brolly spokes firmly attaching themselves to the back of corsets and refusing to let go. We had brollies collapsing at will and/or turning themselves mischievously inside out. We had brolly handles leaping energetically up corset fronts and staying snugly put. We had brolly tips caught in tights; brollies mysteriously getting behind showgirls when they should have been in front; and a particularly badly-behaved brolly being passed superstitiously from showgirl to showgirl in the vain hope of finding someone who could show it who was boss.

All this plus the sudden disturbing realisation as I sat on the floor, open brolly between my outstretched legs, that my brolly had "Hello, little lamb" written on it. At least, we agreed, it didn't say "Hello pussy".

Yours, wondering whether we're doing the right thing in arming our showgirls with canes next week,

Burlicious x