I have found a purpose in life.
I will meet and fall in love with the clipboard girls off of Price-Drop TV.
You do know Price-Drop TV, don’t you? It’s on Channel 24 on Freeview. I don’t know if it’s on Sky. I am a simple man of simple tastes, not Peter Stringfellows after all.
Anyway, on PDTV as I will refer to it, they sell off various household items to the unemployed, mentally enfeebled and old people who make up the audience of shopping channels. To this end they have presenters who are required to cajole an undeserving public into buying whatever trinkets the station is currently pushing. It may be a breadmaker, it may be a rug, these heroes of television have to punt it out to a nation of mongs. There are two species of presenters; the first are male, wear cheap suits and are either camp and chirpy or geezerish and chirpy. They need concern us no more.
The lady presenters. Ah, the lady presenters. Dressed immaculately in their trouser suits, their ample bosoms struggling against the double-breasted serge. These are the finest specimens of womanhood this country has to offer and I do not flatter myself that I could ever win the hand of such a proud beauty. This is the province of the Coca-Cola Championship soccer star or the Holby City minor role actor. No, I know my place.
Instead we turn our attention to their comrades at the tat front, the clipboard girls. Although these girls are magnificent in their own way, they undoubtedly occupy a lower rung in the showbusiness ladder. While the grey-suited presenter is tilting her head Posh Spice style and enthusing about diamante bracelets in winning style, our heroine comes on clad in a plunging vest top with a PDTV logo on it. The clipboard girls are as busty as the presenters, yet seem to have slightly chunkier faces and clearly lack the gift of the gab that one must possess to prattle gaily about a set of matching luggage for fifteen minutes.
They don’t always have the clipboard, which has details of forthcoming special offers or feedback from the deluded simpletons in the audience. Our girl gamely passes on the information that Brian in Hemel Hempstead reckons he saved over three thousand pound by shopping with PDTV. She says this without piercing Brian’s bubble of insanity and the presenter goes along with the fiction.
I love the clipboard girls and I want to live with them.
I imagine they live near to the studios of PDTV. The evil proprietor Tony Price-Drop, a cockney market trader made good, wants his girls close at hand. He runs a tight ship does Tony and he keeps the female presenters in check. In the local pub at night he often bellows across the crowded saloon bar “Oi, Mandy! Easy on the malibu and pineapples. You’re up at seven with an hundred and forty-five Star Trek DVD box sets to knock aht. Be’ave yourself, you saucy mare!”
The clipboard girls get a little more leeway. Tony regards them as little more than “a pair of knockers and a chunky, pretty face.” They knock back the booze till the small hours, giggling at the camp presenters’ impersonations of Tony behind his back. “Get your fat little tits into that vest top and get on screen, you caaah!” they squeal. It’s common knowledge that Big Tony is a homosexual but he never plays around with any of his male presenters. “Business and cock, you got to keep ‘em separate” he confides to close friends.
One day I will live with the clipboard girls in a nice little gaff, this I swear to you all now.
PS I would never have any truck with the women off of Bid-Up TV and neither should you. They are all filthy whores.