When one sees a montage of beautiful female posteriors set to music, and one is a red-blooded male (and a lifelong ass man (what? I can't say that now? I like women's bottoms. There. You satisfied?)), what is a person to do in the company of one's mother?
I am referring to a commercial I saw earlier tonight while watching an episode of Poirot and digesting a delicious meal of pork chops, roasties and Savoy cabbage. One moment, David Suchet as the Belgian sleuth, next moment, bottom after delicious bottom is revealed in ever-skimpier apparel. It was enough to make a blind eunuch blush.
What was it advertising, I hear you cry in unison?
Yes, you heard me right. Sneakers. Trainers. Track shoes. Ones that apparently are so designed that when you walk in them, they tone and firm not only your legs but your sweet lil' tushy too. I'm waiting for the sneakers that can make me an early morning cuppa and do my job for me as well.
For those lustful types (I know you're there, I can hear the heavy breathing) I will now play said montage o' behinds for you.
I just love the way that she says "a better bum".
Anyway, it was odd, because right after this commercial, was a commercial for Weight Watchers, followed by one for BUPA health insurance. It was like, what are you trying to say, ITV? If the sneakers and Weight Watchers don't work for you, you've always got health insurance to fall back on?
Remember the days when shoes were just shoes? There seems to be an awful lot of shoes these days designed to give you a workout simply by strapping them on your feet. From Reebok Easytone to Fitflops and those strange ones with the curved sole, manufacturers are trying to convince us that all it takes is walking around in bizarre footwear to give us that perfect bod. Well, really. If that was seriously all it took, I'd buy some tomorrow. Or even right now on the Interwebs.
All right, rant over. Back to the bums.