BATGIRL...

 
The Telegraph informs me this morning that Batgirl is to Walk Again!

Seems DC Comics are going to revive the storyline of Batgirl by bringing her back from paralysis (a state you can blame the Joker for) and allowing her to walk again...

See the full story here
  

P

Been a while since I did one of my 'girls I used to know' posts!

The day of LiveAid 1985 will always stick in my mind for one reason and one reason only. It was the day that P first slept with me, me with her and her with anyone at all. She wasn't yet 16 as I was not yet 17 and she was a couple of years below me at school. That's only just not 16 though isn't it? so I think I'm ok on that score. And she did want me to of course. Which is alright, isn't it? I have suddenly had a pang of guilt writing this blog.. but you have to know the person and everyone's different aren't they. That'll be my defence in a court of law (which is valid as will be revealed later).

Anyway.. somewhere in between the Coldstream Guards kicking off the shindig in London and Bob and the gang closing with Do They Know It's Christmas, in fact around 16:00 as far as I can remember (which Wikipedia tells me would have been around the time of Bryan Ferry and that makes sense as I'm not a massive fan) I found myself upstairs doing the deed so to speak. I don't remember too much about the exact moment really. To my shame. More a fumble than one for the history books. Well, I was only 17?!

After that I can't even remember what happened next. After sticking around for a while I probably got back on my Yamaha FS1E in my football casual gear (cords split and flared at the bottom with Farah material sewed in, espadrills and a nice adidas top - just the ticket for riding a motorbike in?) and scooted around town with a glow on me face. Being the first should always be an honour.

We had been seeing each other for a while. Mainly consisting of me arriving at her house most evenings and listening to records in her bedroom - the source of many of my favourite 80s albums. A big thank you must be tipped to this girl who was 2 years my junior but with exceptional music taste. Without her I wouldn't know too much about David Sylvian and a whole heap of other alternative/indie type artists.

But I was 17. I was footloose and fancy free with a Yamaha and a mission to get thrown out of sixth form and hang around with people that were known as 'the wrong types'. Strangely the ones that are still around on my facebook list have all turned out very decent people to be honest.

It turned out to be an on-again off-again relationship I had with P from that time and for years forward. We just had impeccably bad timing with each other. To this day I have a space in my heart for her. Only a little one but it is filled with very funny memories. She was a very funny person. Exceptionally bright. Exceptionaly cheeky. Which ensured she could get away with being exceptionally lazy too. A woman after my own heart!

Time washed around for two years or so and we got back together briefly. Just before I moved away to University. Seconds away, round two of bad timing.

Then, I think around four years later I found myself with her again. This time whilst back at my parents house briefly after finishing my first degree. A few weeks and nights really and then I moved to London to study some more. Bad timing. Again.

God knows what happened after that. She moved to London with a guy I used to go to cub scouts with. Weird how life circles. Ended up marrying him. But not before one more attempt. This time I was back in town for Christmas at the bar where all those who lived away congregate when they are back in town together - every place has one. A strange night when she propositioned me to go round the back alley. Such charm. Such style. I didn't. But not for want of wanting to to be honest. At the time I was with someone a great deal less appealing, bright or interesting as P and it would have made great sense to swap out one for the other. But bad timing struck thrice. This was the holiday I ended up beginning my career as a father.

In the end P turned out to become a solicitor in London or some such - hence the rehearsal of my law court defence! Tattooed and with piercings in all the wrong places for your conventional solicitor last time I saw her about ten years ago. Just like her to get away with it. Exceptionally cheeky. But still as bright as the first day I spoke to her.

(afterthought: this text was written 4 months ago and only just published, but now I really must tread carefully as she is a recent new contact on one of my social networking accounts and still working in the broad area of law - however, our brief renewed messages confirm to me that she thought the same about me as I did her and we are both now very happy doing what we do so nobody is any worse off).

This is one story in which I'm happy to report they all lived happily ever after. awww. nice.

THINGS JAPANESE..

A random and meandering blog (sorry) that is inspired by an in-joke between my and my partner -
that will necessarily be less 'in-' and more 'out' after this blog..

So, here it is world.. dah, dah da da (cue drum roll and all that).. I have a thing for Japanese girls. Not a dark secret, not sinister. In fact, something I'm quite proud of really!

It all started in 1986. I hot-footed my ass down to London in search of golden pavements. In a way, I found mine for a while - working in the City in a new trading department dealing in Government Bond Futures contracts.. Japanese ones to be exact. New instruments. New world. Loadsa dosh etc etc and all those other 80s emotions!

I worked for Diawa Europe, a Japanese Securities House. As their current website states, your insight to asian financial markets..

During my time there I had ample chance to learn a bit about Japanese culture, food (as we regularly worked late nights to settle trading positions with Japan overnight we had fresh Japanese food in the office each evening for free - heaven!). And the best bit was yet to come.

All of the Directors were Japanese imports. Unsurprisingly. But their daughters (never did see any sons - but maybe I wasn't looking?) often dropped by the office to grab Daddy's gold card (when gold cards were only for people who were earning the really big money not just anyone who wanted one). As an 18 year old kid from a 99.9% 80s white town my eyes were truly opened! For me Daiwa Europe was more like my insight into asian females. Don't get me wrong, I don't like other Asian looks at all but Japanese girls hold a special place for me.

In the Wag Club with a friend one Saturday I fell over myself and fell in love with one Japanese girl in particular. Truly beautiful. My only problem was that she had only just hit London, her dad was an investment banker or some such and she had moved over to attend the esteemed Japanese College in London. I managed to be able to buy her a drink - which turned out in relative terms to be as expensive as the drinks are nowadays in Tokyo! Well, the Wag Club was THE place to be at that time. Derek B and Yazz on the turntables. Gilles Peterson with his new Talkin' Loud sound. House music exploding all over the place etc.


One problem. My Japanese language skills in those days didn't extend much further than a few numbers, yes, no and ham and egg sandwich (honestly - hamu eggu sandoicchi.. see it's not that difficult!). Ishiko or Michiko (whatever!) knew less English than I did Japanese. Not surprising the conversation didn't go very far. But hey! I have the memory!

After that, Japanese life was a barren desert for many a year. I moved back up North, to a city with very few Japanese faces in it (in those days, less so now after a few successful inward investment projects). I quickly forgot about my Japanese fetish (apart from sporadic Yohji Yamamoto clothes purchases) and got on with my life. Probably for the best!

Then, recently I re-visited early 90s band Sultans of Ping on my mp3 player (and went to see them too - which I can't recommend highly enough). Their song I Like Japanese Girls reminded me of the old days and my partner has wound me up about it from time to time in our healthy rivalrous way. It is funny. It is a fetish. It is, let's face it, part of what makes Polko Polko.


So, there it is. It's out. Polko likes Japanese Girls... Cool cool cool cool Japanese Girls...

vid link here if you're interested!

and this is just funny!

T

A very long time ago now I knew a girl called T. She went to the same school in fact. Not in my usual group of friends. Not in my form. I cannot even remember now how the following happened. But it did. And in some ways I'm glad it did - all of life's experiences make you what you are after all. In another way it left a stale odour. Read on.

I was about 15, in what I call 5th year and what is now referred to as Year 12. Or something. In fact, I'm still confused by the new school year naming system even given that I have my own son who is - i think - in year 8.

Anyway.. I was out and about in my town with a friend of mine. A seaside town so I was probably hanging around at the arcades? Not a wild guess given that I spent most of my evenings down there. So, arcades it is as the backdrop. I trust you are confortable with that? I met a few girls from my school that I knew - one shared the same form as T and we had been boyfriend/girlfriend for a while in the summer between 3rd and 4th year. J - who we might just visit at a later date in my 'blog series of girls I've known' - but who must be thought of as J1 since there have been a few J's - introduced me to T. Nothing odd there. Seemed pretty nice as a person. Not really my type, certainly not particularly attractive as a 15 year old girl goes, but I wasn't fishing for anything in particular. One thing led to another and I arranged to meet her the next evening. The often repeated ritual of a boy sneaking round to her neighbours house where she was babysitting..

Jilted John comes to mind Going Steady. The lyrics include:

On Wednesday Sharon goes babysitting
For her mum's friend Mrs Higgins
I go with her to watch telly
The kids are horrible and the house is dead smelly
But it's all worth it 'cause when they've gone to bed
We start snogging on the sofa

So, there we were. Smelly house. Kids nowhere to be heard. And T makes the first move. I had been told she was a bit of a one. I discounted all the rumours as a good boy should. Fool. She was very forward for my previous experience - but I got the idea quickly enough. Big tits she had. I remember them well as they were probably the first truly big ones I'd experienced. They may have been the first I had experienced? I was nearly 15 after all.

Only thing was she had terrible BO. Now all my best friends at the time had been quick to tell me that she was a bit of a goer, bit of a sl*g some said, but nobody told me I needed to bring a fucking gas mask? She really did have a problem in the underarm area and I couldn't really get into it at all. This being the 80s and us being still kids deodorant wasn't in massive supply I guess. I remember making some lame excuse after an hour or so of holding my breath and diving into romantic embraces.

Evening over as quick as it was arranged I'm afraid.

Now the funny thing is that T and I spoke no more from that day on. Do you blame her? I can barely remember her at school to be honest. No shared lessons and certainly very few mutual friends. I didn't feel guilty. I'm sure it didn't change her life either.

What the hell is interesting about that you cry? Well, some years after I left school a friend of a friend (honest) updated me on Ts progress. Only seems this girl had bizarrely travelled the waters from England and found herself in Los Angeles - by what route I know not. San Bernadino valley to be exact. And she was now, whilst we were all toiling away in the usual range of jobs and signing on as early 20-somethings, a pretty popular (I am guessing not so pretty still? though the ugly ones at school do tend to turn out ok in the end?) porn star of some repute. Fuck me. Not just one or two bit parts either. A real life proper 'name in big font size' porn star! Retired now I suspect. And I hope still healthy for it all - of mind and body. Turns out I had a chance at a minor walk on part in a real life porn film of sorts and I let a bit of a stink come between me and my smalltown teenage fame?

But the obvious question does arise.. What the hell did she do about that BO problem in LA of all places. I've been a few times and it isn't really the sort of place you flock to if you have a problem with sweating in hot weather! Plus it's not like she chose a career where she could hide it? I've seen one or two scenes (in the interests of research.. honest..) and the blokes don't seem to be too bothered!

I will not divulge her real name - that wouldn't be on - but what a strange and bizarre life for a girl from a nondescript town in the middle of the North East-ish of the UK. My school really did turn out some freaks. And I'm clearly not the only one!

Maybe next time I go to LA I'll try and look T up.. if only to see if that smells gone?

C

I used to know a girl called C in what I like to refer to as my formation years. Where I grew up people were formed rather than grew up. It wasn't a tough place by todays Johnny Too Bad stabbing and robbing standards but it was cold, windy and you could get a right good kicking if you were unlucky. I was mostly lucky most of the time.

Anyway, C was not the prettiest girl on the block by a long way but made up for it by wearing skimpy mini dresses, being very slim, having long legs and the largest tits you can ever imagine being squeezed into 1 and a bit square metres of clingy stretchy cotton tube dress (it was the 80s).

She was one of life's enigmas, people used to stop their conversations when she walked in and follow her every movement. Well, I say people, I mean mostly blokes of course. Not so much an enigma as a bit of alright.

I used to know her quite well and for some reason she took to me as a confidante. One of my first lessons in patience and playing a long game in life. Only the game went on and on and we were alas only ever friends and nothing more. She had a pretty rough upbringing, lived between two parents who lived on the roughtest estate in the town and the roughest estate closest to the docks in the town. Being from a split home in those days wasn't that common. Which added to the roughness i guess. And to top it all off her dad was a complete psycho who when he'd had a few drinks used to follow her around town and beat people up if they were speaking to her. In short a former seaman turned cunt. She loved him all the same.

I saw her recently. A year or so ago when I was back in my home town for some occasion. She hadn't changed a bit in the way that I haven't changed a bit even though I have shorter hair, less of it, am unable to run miles and miles effortlessly and am in one sense generally a former shadow of my then forming physical self. But hey! I'm a towering giant against that thin personality of a kid I used to be, right?

I recall one conversation clearly to this day. C was telling me about her latest conquest in a long line of men who she'd slept with. She seemed to hate them all as soon as the sex was over. She just did it to gain instant respect. Love you might call it. Confusion was probably more to the point. Once or twice in the past I've thought about her and wondered if she ever did take her time with someone, get to know them before advancing things further and have what most people have in life - at least once or twice anyway - a true loving relationship. I hope so.

Either way, I bet she's still got those gorgeous tits and looks great in a mini-dress.

Forgive me, I am a man after all.

M

I used to know this girl. I've not seen her for about 20 years and nobody I know (except possibly a few people on my facebook account?) now has ever had anything to do with her so it's probably safe enough to talk about her in the way that I'm about to. I'll just refer to her as M to be on the safe side.

A little bag of skin and bone she was, all wrapped up in a nervous ball of cigarettes and joints really. Strange creature. Highly intelligent with a very good degree from the right London College but a right snobby little thing. Not my type. I don't know why I got involved. But I did. And it was fun while it lasted. Which wasn't very long in the scheme of things.

And then 20 years on I woke up thinking about her in the middle of the night for absolutely no apparent reason.

Anyway, she was as thin as a thin thing then. Only when she took off her top one night I got a bit of a shock as she had these huge tits. Where she managed to tuck them away in the daytime I will never know. One of life's fashion secrets. The only trouble was that even with her being only in her early twenties gravity should not have been exerting such a force on those things. They were my first and last experience of saggy breasts and I must say I'm happy about that. What do you do with something that doesn't obey the usual laws of physics and seems to slip through your fingers rather than sit in them?

Twenty years go by and we all inevitably change. She's probably married and had kids. Filled out a bit by now. Probably stopped smoking. And filled out a bit more. I bet those tits are massive these days?