Back to the bee-atch

Seeing as though it’s Friday and I will probably be on the beach this weekend I thought I would tell this story, which brings back bad memories.

I am all for the beach. But there are just some places that old people should not frequent. They should not go to clubs or the beach. Why? Because I say so. On a couple of occasions I have nearly been scared to death at the sight of a deathly pale, overweight man exiting the surf with a David Hasselhoff Speedo on. Listen guys, even the Hoff looks like an idiot in a Speedo. I think I did briefly go into cardiac arrest once when I noticed someone’s tits were floating in the sea. Then I realised their owner was half way up the beach but her tits were sagging way behind her. That was my first near death experience. But the real problem is the people who have not realised they are old yet. Usually those rich moms from some upmarket area who have nothing better to do than sit on the beach. All that keeps their lives from falling to pieces is their plastic surgery. Have you ever heard of spontaneous combustion? Let me explain. It is a strange phenomenon where people just catch alight. Out of the blue they will burst into flames. Now I always thought this was bullshit until a day at Clifton turned into a nightmare. Sitting in the blazing sun I was having the time of my life. I was as bronzed as a Trojan and my guns were blazing. I was hot property on the beach. Then I saw this old woman, probably in her 50’s, and she looked like hell. She was not even tanned; she was black from the sun. She looked like a UV ray bomb. I nearly mistook her for a nuclear power station. Only a nuclear power station is not really scary to look at. She had those big Dior style sunglasses on and that was all fine. Until she took them off. My God, I hope I never see such a thing again. Her surgeon had fucked up big time. Her lips looked like they had their own heartbeat. Her one eye seemed a bit lame, I think her surgeon must have put a little too much Botox in her mug, and her whole face had become a little funky. It looked all lopsided. Added to this was the mix of sun cream and sweat and she looked bushed. She was looking around at people with a blank, yet amazed look. I bet she was thinking to herself “Why are these people not looking at me? I am the picture of beauty! I spent all this money and no one is even taking a second look at me! I’m beautiful dammit, I’m beautiful! This face cost two hundred grand!” The reason why I did not look at her twice was because seeing death once is enough. I was scared of being near her because I know what happens when you put plastic or rubber into the fire. It creates a blaze unlike anything you have ever seen. So I figured combine all the plastic in her face with the intense heat of the sun, and you are looking at nuclear meltdown. I think that is the nearest I have ever come to seeing someone combust spontaneously. But I feel bad talking about this woman in such a way. I’m sure she is just your average wife married to a billionaire. She has no degree, no job, no ambition and nothing to do with her time. So she fills it up with plastic surgery and UV rays. But woman, if you are reading this keep the fuck away from me at the beach. I don’t want you to explode near me and endanger my life. Everyone knows I want to die on my own private island while I get served cocktails by Gisele Bundchen. Except for you it seems.