Celebrity 'Mares

The latest age-old celebrity to be swept into the many tentacles of Operation Yewtree is one who has had us all guessing for decades. Cliff Richard may have had a roving eye but I bet he now wishes he’d taken Sue Barker as a beard and retired to breed cats. It seems nobody famous and over sixty is safe from accusations of ‘impropriety’. What have the police done, sent out search parties for anybody who was ever in the Top of the Pops audience and hypnotised them into confecting false memories, or what? I’m still getting over Rolf, for heaven’s sake.

But the news did take me back to that more innocent-seeming age and lifting the veil of time from the recesses of my memory I can well recall that everybody, but EVERYBODY was obsessed back then with causal sex. If they weren’t doing it, they were talking and writing about doing it. If they were neither talking nor writing about it, then they just weren’t getting any. Or was that just me? Anyway, the red-top newspapers were filled to the brim with gleeful stories of what used to be referred to as ‘romps’or ‘shenanigans’ or plain old ‘rumpy-pumpy’ and - far from being shameful - bagging a popular entertainer was a thing of pride for many a groupie.

Oh yes, for there was a ready supply of energetic and beautiful, bright young things eager to get up close and very personal with those fabulous figures of fantasy from ‘off the telly’. And radio, of course; let us not forget the veritable procession of star performers on the unseen airwaves of Swinging London back in the sixties. All of which nostalgia serves to remind me of the story of one such Radio One DJ, who was well known for more than his fair share of such tawdry ‘antics’.

The famous DJ, whose face adorned many a teen magazine cover was driving along a sleepy, winding, pre-dual-carriageway era A-Road, back in the days when motoring was an adventure in itself and hitchhiking was not only acceptable, but the only mode of motorised transport for many beyond taking a bus. Ahead, in a layby he spotted what we would, back then, have called a dolly bird, her thumb cocked and her long, bare legs striking a come-hither pose as she sat atop her suitcase. He quite naturally pulled over and the girl hopped in. She recognised him immediately.

“Ooh!” she squealed, “You’re whatshisname off the radio, aren’t you?” and as they pulled out of the layby onto the open road the flirting began in earnest. “My mum and my sister love you, you know!” she giggled “We always listen to you on your breakfast show. They’ll both be dead jealous!” For several miles he listened intently as the girl, who he had decided was close enough to sixteen for no jury of the sixties to convict, coquettishly played with her pigtails, ran her fingertips along his gearstick and twiddled with the knobs of the dashboard radio. Aroused, he turned off the main road into a shady lane and parked up amid the trees.

He turned towards her and indicating the very obvious erection in his trousers said, “Go on then, you know you want to.” She blushed, “Oh, I couldn’t!” she said. “Go on, he said, it’s just you and me…” She was clearly both excited and nervous “But I’ve never done it before!” she laughed and shook her head. “No need to be nervous,” he coached, “just close your eyes and go for it!” and with that he unzipped his flies and took out his ‘swollen member’. Her eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, “Here? Now?” He nodded, suddenly finding the words sticking in his throat as his pulse raced and his face flushed.

It was so innocent back then...

She leaned towards him and carefully took hold of his manhood in both of her tiny hands. "No need to be so gentle," he instructed and then gasped as she gripped harder. His breathing quickened still further and his heart pounded in his chest. He could scarcely believe it as she closed her eyes, bent her head over his rock-hard penis, opened her mouth wide, took a deep breath and said “Hello mum, hello Sis, you’ll never guess what I’m doing… I’m on the radio!”