the good old days?

let me make this very clear

Chris and I are not voyeurs

we just like watching vintage TV

especially if we catch  

The Price is Right with Brucie.


if a good looking young woman is picked

and bounces down to ‘Contestants’ Row’

we share knowing looks and hope she wins

and if she wins we zone in

on the host’s right hand

encircling her waist

and scope Forsyth’s thumb,


creeping to the underwire.


some fellah, Emon, scooped a percolator

and could drive home a car by winning at ‘Plinko’ -

a game played from a raised dais.


the ‘National Treasure’ nudged and winked,

‘would you like to go upstairs with ‘Sally’?’

(‘Sally’ was a glamorous hostess on the show)

the studio audience loved the innuendo

Emon could not care less - his mind full of car.


the game was afoot,

we put down our cups.


Emon climbed the narrow steps

Sally close behind him

and close up to her, Brucie,

who had to pass Sally

to get to the punter


no escape for the hostess

all toothy grin and chuckling

Brucie struggled past

crushing chest to chest

milking the moment

and taking his time.


the audience whooped

Brucie leered. Sally glared.


then she stepped down

and shot a wide smile

to camera one.


Chris tutted.  I sighed,

’the nineties eh? diff’rent world.’


◄ for we oldies

Silent Night [a seasonal pome] ►


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