It's come to that time of year again where I have to pay homage to the greatest of all of God's/Gravity's creations. The time of year when you eat your lunch outside, people take needless days off and everything looks great. It is the time of year when females stop wearing trousers, they take off their thick jumpers and show us all why we love them so much. It is truly a joy to walk around the streets and parks of Britain just watching the women of this world enjoy the sunshine. There is nothing in this world quite like a perfectly shaped pear of buttocks neatly enclosed within a tight skirt. Beautifully shaped legs reaching all the way to the floor, curving gracefully from their hips that seem to move independently to the rest of the body.
It is the time of year when tummy buttons are flaunted, beautifully deep tummy buttons resting at the centre of a soft, downy stomach whose skin is insanely smooth and whose colour, although artificially rendered hypnotises me as it passes.
You really can tell that God made women second. It was here he reached perfection. Man is clumsy, blunt and square, made from blocks stacked on top of each other like lego. Women's bodies are harmoniously proportioned each section flowing gently together. For the computer minded among you, Man is the equivalent of a Rasta image, unsophisticated and basic, Women are a beautiful collection of curves and lines in an uncorruptable Vector format.
People often ask me what part of a women do I like best. Am I a tits or an arse man? But the closer you get to one of these sacred forms, the more I realize that my love for a woman's shape cannot be contained within only one feature. What about the slenderness of the neck? The gentle undulation of the shoulders? The softness of their back, the fragility of their hands and petite feet? There is nothing that is not so perfect as a woman's body. A man's body we all know is more comical than sexy. Sure, a man can be sexy, he can have abs, a strong jaw and cockles and muscles, but standing solitarily naked the male form looks odd, awkward, unsubtle and with the almost accidental placement of his member that reminds us of the time that we spent our lives on all fours, primitive. Not so with the female of the species! We bask in the glory of her perfection! There are no awkward protusions here! Her hands do not hang heavily by her sides, her feet do not grow lumpy with veins and her nipples are not left forlornly redundant.
Bring on the summer and the fashion that goes with it! I want to see flesh on display, a vest that hints at something else, a dress that hugs the legs in a fresh breeze, hair that catches the wind like a flame and the carefree steps of be-sandled feet upon green English grass that constantly tells me that everything is going to be alright.