… unpalatable truths be told here
Being a dyed in the wool anti-feminist it is obvious that I just love looking at women doing almost anything at all, even carrying hate-banners. Even a dyke on a bike can arouse a smile of approval.
The singer, not the song, you see. A pretty girl is a pretty girl even when singing out of tune. I would even smile at a snap of Moggsy on a mountain-bike, her little girly legs encased in armour pedalling furiously along a bumpy path; or sitting whistfully beside her bike daring me not to look at her creamy white thighs beyond her contrasting, eye-fetching hold-up stockings. As for the curve of a perky breast beneath a nearly-but-not-quite-chaste ‘t’-shirt, what is a chap to do but look. ‘Tis natural.
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