The Blushing Bride


She was stood in a bar in Cardiff in the den of the hen party crowd; most of them were half naked, all of them, very loud.


She had jeans that were ripped to the ankle, with a lace garter slung round her knee. She looked like a sack, and her top had no back she was so drunk she could hardly see.


There was a sash draped over her bosom with “Bride to be”, written in gold, and the legend, “I am a virgin” but she wasn’t, so I am told.


On her head was a sparkly tiara, all hanging with condoms and such. If this girl was a blushing young bride. then I must be right out of touch.


Her language was that of a navvy, and all of her friends were the same. There was no finesse in the state of their dress, it’s sad, but there`s no one to blame.


She staggered out onto the pavement, out of that old Cardiff bar, flashed all her bits at the doorman, and threw up all over a car.


Then they trooped off swearing and shouting their behaviour and dress was a crime, but what`s to be done? Really, nothing – they’re a product of out time.


22


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