Surreal moment in Maisie’s – the tiniest and oldest Lanark pub – last-night. Had me almost sure I’d overdone the relaxation a little – and vowing never again…
Into the throng of rough-palmed drunken sweaty 40+ men, strode three black amazons wearing nowt but calf-high, strappy 6″ heeled sandals; gold lame bikini tops; and the teeniest tiniest weeniest lycra micro-mini skirts.
One was pregnant and holding the hand of the smallest white local man I’ve ever seen, looking down onto the top of his head as she spoke to him. He in turn stroked her tummy with the air of a besotted proprietor.
Bringing up the rear was a tiny white woman – no taller than my 9 yr old – and with the emaciated frame of a schedule 1 drug connoisseur. She was relatively nun-like in her choice of clothing: sequinned vest top and hot pants.
The tallest of the amazonian proportioned women approached the bar – and lo, the bustling throng of men parted as though she were brandishing some god-like staff. One little man – 70 yr old Tommy, retired farm labourer – stood mesmerised by the long, gleaming and glossy thighs that were so tantalising close to him, his bottom jaw sagging, his eyes wide.
As she stretched across the bar for the ordered drinks (sambuca shots and pints) the lycra hem of her teeny tiny micra-mini skirt began to roll up over her majestic and substantial globed buttocks. She pulled it down. She stretched out for the drinks. The hem rolled. She pulled it back down.
And so went the rest of the night.
Now, Maisie’s is generally very full of bums and complete arses. But I can sincerely say that nothing compares to my experience last-night!