In the midst of election fever and facing Brexit, it is easy to get nostalgic for an era of innocent twerking with gentlemen-callers, like Robin Thicke. Likewise, who can forget watching Dame Vera Lynn provocatively touching herself with a big foam finger?
Pensioners and war veterans spent much of this week reminiscing about a simpler time – a time of bra-less tea dances, stripper poles and communal hammer licking. Meanwhile, sentimental street parties were held in memory of Miss Cyrus - ‘the tramp next door’ - as children cavorted in crop tops, ripping up a bong.
Said one naked octogenarian, as she straddled a wrecking ball – flaps in the wind: ‘When I talk to youngsters about 2013, they can’t imagine what it was like – with no 3-D printers and only limited WiFi. But the olden days were much more refined; young ladies would often pose duck-faced on a Hello Kitty bedspread, rubbing their midriff in baby-oil. It was classy’.
Yet can we turn the clock back? Can we return to a time when tongues were a mere 8-10 inches long and hair was undercut with a lawn strimmer? Many retirees will ask themselves – are these ‘blue remembered hills’ or another topless Miley photoshoot in the cold?
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