Baz, I have just seen Martle's definition of thighs
"well-fed, crusty denizens of the Radio 3 messageboards"
Excuse me, Monseigneur Marty, my thighs are not well fed, nor crusty, they are as the denizens of Gligomath. Pillars of alabaster they is. They do glow slow white in the distance, enticing, look you, sailors who is marooned off the Bristol Channel innit?
Ah well then - YOU must have been that girlie who posed for me while sailing along the S. Wales coastline, eating her bacon burger, and offering me the ten-quid note not to publish the pickie? Interesting Anna!!