The whole lot that follows is true, until you’re my mum.
One Saturday afternoon in 1989, me and my mate Rob went to the native video store, which was additionally a hairdresser and pornographer, to hire a movie. We took a circuitous, looping route away from prying neighbourly eyes, and stopped at a giant bush exterior the betting store, inside which we had stashed a bottle of Thunderbird Blue and a fastidiously waterproofed pack of Benson and Hedges.
After checking the coast was clear, we acquired caught in. Our Mr. Byrite denims stirring within the mild Summer season breeze, we have been, in our minds, members of the Mottingham chapter of The Warriors.
Cool.
And harmful.
We drank (gagged) and smoked (gagged) till Rob acquired scared his dad would possibly drive previous, and moved on in direction of our final purpose, the video store, which was not far away between a Chinese language Takeaway and a {hardware} store owned by a person named Mr. Rogers (not that one).
As we approached the store, out of nowhere and in a cloud of Physique Store ‘White Musk’, two of the neighbourhood women, each referred to as Stacey (I swear that is true), appeared. The ladies, with whom Rob and I might have fairly appreciated to do issues we didn’t perceive and couldn’t title, acquired to the door first.
Massive Stacey, as she was identified, elbowed the door open and went inside. Ginger Stacey, as she was identified, held the door open for us, which was fairly good and the which means of which Rob and I later debated at size, whereas trying disdainfully over her shoulder at me via Cindy Lauper curls and doing that factor the place you snap chewing gum between your enamel.
The presence of ladies we fancied did what it at all times does to previous boys / younger males. We tried to look cool, which made us look silly. Rob beginning doing his bizarre ‘legs additional aside than regular’ stroll (think about a non-misogynistic and truly pretty Andrew Tate); I began speaking very loudly and have become hyper conscious of my tongue.
Rob swerved Science Fiction, which had been our meant goal (RoboCop), and as an alternative loitered within the thriller part, in entrance of Deadly Attraction, in case the ladies wandered over and… effectively I don’t know what actually, and neither did he.
I got down to observe him, however one thing stunning caught my eye and stopped me in my tracks. It was a flash of black, white, and pink. A picture that spoke of movement and energy. Of energy. I used to be drawn to it, hand outstretched, and pulled the empty FOR DISPLAY ONLY VHS case from the rack and stared at it, enraptured. I do know now that it was Jean-Claude Van Damme’s second greatest film – Blood Sport – however then, after I knew nothing, that picture of a glistening Jean-Claude, battered however not damaged, and in lycra shorts, simply made me really feel… bizarre.
I stared at that video cowl for a superb minute, which is a very long time in that form of circumstance, then skilled a form of full physique shudder, and held it aloft. I felt irresistibly compelled to share this stunning factor I had discovered.
“ROB!” I shouted, pointing on the picture. “LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HIS THIGH!”
To today I don’t know why I did it, I’m not homosexual, though I’ve had impure ideas about Brian Molko. There was simply one thing about that oiled thigh. It gave me the Heebie Jeebies, however in a great way.
Neither of the Stacey’s ever gave me the time of day after that. Rob, alternatively, snogged each of them, on the identical evening no much less, on the youth membership. One thing he has by no means let me neglect, together with the thigh factor.
Anyway, Jean-Claude Van Damme has launched an Irish Whiskey. It’s referred to as Outdated Oak.
