The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Sitting in my seat opposite the drivers cab door, I can’t help but look at the indolent fat f**k sitting in the window seat across the aisle from me; in a smart dark blue suit; the top button of his shirt undone, his tie loosened somewhat, slip-on dark tan shoes either side of the bulging manila folder, in front of him; and just like the folder, his corpulent belly brushes against the buttons on his shirt, as he sniffs up some mucous, then wipes at his florid forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand. And, I can almost forgive him for having his feet on the seat: ‘coz he looks about ywenty-eight, appears quite over weight and, has hayfever far worse than me. Yes, I can almost forgive him having his feet on the seat… almost.

Walking down Bold Street, with the Chinese Arch to my back, I walk on the right, as much of the crowd walks towards me, the gays, the Goths, straightheads, the folksies, straightheads, lesbians; and the drunks and the skunks; all of them wearing enough of their label for me to readily identify them. And, through a group of smokers outside a coffee a brunette walks towards me, all of five foot two. And, she’s got brown green eyes and the hairs tied back at the side, eighties style. And, she’s wearing a rib-cage zip-up length jacket, over a skin-tight dress with a vertical zebra pattern. Then hem ends at the top of her thigh and she had tanned shapely legs, with ankle boots on her feet. And, I watch her looking self-conscious, as she pulls at her hem again, so that it’s taut over her pert buttocks and I can’t help but wonder, “Who is she out to impress in her short dress today?”

Wearing wide, yet high, heels that accentuate the shape of her calf muscle, the lady opposite has her own bustle, under the knee-tight grey office-skirt, worn with a white blouse, that her prodigious bosom fills, tills two buttons appear near to burst. And, as she strides up and down, the platform opposite, I admire the curves that her clothing constrains. And, I can’t help but think, ‘Here is a woman’; then sneer, at the paper-thin models, used by the fashion world. And with the figure of a girl, they’re not women… they’re fashion chic and boy, that leaves me feelin quite bleak…