“What are your measurements ” â€” it slipped out like a belch after a gassy meal. I didn’t know I’d done it until I’d done it â€” if you see what I mean.
Annie Ivil, who was flitting about the room stopped â€” looked at me, and looked at Betteâ€¦ Who looked at Annie, and then looked at me.
Like magic her whole appearance changed. The face, which, as I said before, looked ugly, suddenly remodelled itself. Muscles began to work; her eyes opened wide, and her lips spread, and she crossed her legs, and lounged back, hands behind her head.
“WHATâ€¦ MY BOY? WHAT?”
“Uhmmm, your measurements. What are your measurements?”
“I’m embarrassed,” said Annie Ivil. “I’m not going to look.”
Bette was curling, and snaking into another pose. Now SHE was not embarrassed. I WAS. SHE knew that.
” I’m 40â€¦ (long pause) â€¦22â€¦ (longer pause) â€¦.36.”
She didn’t say anything else, but preened herself like a peacock, as much as to say, ” Howz that boysie, yer satisfied?”
“But I’m only 2ft 5in. high,” she continued, and burst into laughter.
Atmosphere broken. (Musical Express, 1973)