You know Summer's coming when...
- Thread starter T-Bone
- Start date
See I had a classic email about this today about summer coming....
Ah, Tit Monday. It's not that far off now, that glorious day when, heading into
work on the bus, or walking to the Tube, or sitting on the train, you find
yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself
smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your
trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting
regularity of a heartbeat.
Then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit
Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is
that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises
above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to
decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colour s and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive
into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff)
and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened
with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing,
breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts
braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer
dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even
notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at
traffic islands, quivering to cross the road... And you know it is nearly
summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the
sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday. Not that it always falls
on a Monday.
Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday.
Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after
nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when
temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April. And then, of course, there is Tit Monday
Night.
You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night
falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not
prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer
clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will notmake again until
next year), so that when they're all standing outside All Bar One after work
celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no
protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has
brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where,instead of lighters, everyone
is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your
mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be
false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters
and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends
will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you
see the whites of their bra straps As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper
in a bikini doth not a summer make.
work on the bus, or walking to the Tube, or sitting on the train, you find
yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself
smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your
trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting
regularity of a heartbeat.
Then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit
Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is
that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises
above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to
decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colour s and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive
into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff)
and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened
with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing,
breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts
braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer
dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even
notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at
traffic islands, quivering to cross the road... And you know it is nearly
summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the
sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday. Not that it always falls
on a Monday.
Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday.
Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after
nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when
temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April. And then, of course, there is Tit Monday
Night.
You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night
falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not
prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer
clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will notmake again until
next year), so that when they're all standing outside All Bar One after work
celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no
protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has
brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where,instead of lighters, everyone
is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your
mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be
false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters
and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends
will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you
see the whites of their bra straps As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper
in a bikini doth not a summer make.
E
elDiablo
Guest
Lol, nice! Never thought about that before, but quite true!