Having just returned from the Geneva Motor Show, I’m not just suffering from exhaustion but total depression. Why? Quite simply, because I feel fat, frumpy, totally fed up and its not because I am over forty.
Its because, draped over these luscious looking new cars, are pencil thin size minus 10 models in tight fitting dresses as short as belts or in skimpy black leather hot pants.
Some just hang around the cars, others are provocatively nuzzling into the door mirrors with pouting lips egged on by men with cameras the size of rockets blatantly zooming in - and its not the cars they are zooming into.
I am by no means a prude but is it really necessary to have these sticks parading around the cars in attempt to lure customers to their stands?
In defiance, I take myself off to the Super Car section to do some of my own ogling. I then had a thought, where are the body building sort of macho chaps that would drive these types of cars and me, into seventh heaven?
Why could us girls not have drop dead gorgeous hunks with rippling six packs draping themselves over the bonnets of the Lamborghini’s’ or the suave sophisticated elegant Italian men in their tight fitting trousers nuzzling their posteriors into the door mirrors of the Ferrari’s?
In such a PC world we live in, I call this blatant discrimination.
Jackie Violet
Geneva Slideshow Motor Show Gallery