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The Playtex Moonwalk.
Aug. 16th, 2002 11:10 amEvery year, Playtex (the brassiere manufacturers) sponsor an event they call the moonwalk in support of Breast Cancer research. What this involves is women being sponsored to walk around London at night in their bras. Naturally, they want to cut down the incidence of leering weirdoes, so they do this generally out of sight (round Battersea Park), and as it’s at 2am, not many people know about it.
Certainly I’d never heard of it until about a year ago or so, when I was strolling home after a game and a couple of hours in the all-night web café on IRC. Deciding it was a nice night, I decided to cut through the park.
Imagine my surprise when, wandering down the darkened pathways of Battersea Park at 2am, I was confronted with several hundred serious-faced women in bras bustling towards me. I was fairly confused until I shook myself out of my reverie and noticed the signs up indicating what was going on, but for a few moments I wasn’t sure whether to jump for joy or run in mortal terror.
After I realised the true nature of the situation, I couldn’t help but appreciate the farcical nature of the situation, and my head was filled with amused mental images of the Benny Hill show, and the scene in Monty Pythons ‘Meaning of Life’ wherein a man is chased to death by naked women.
Looking about I realised that I was getting a lot of very hostile looks from the passing moonwalkers, and that’s when I realised that I was smirking all over my fat face – at the ridiculous situation, but they naturally assumed I was smirking about something else entirely and they hated me for it, as I was obviously a leering pervert.
Take my advice – when unexpectedly confronted with 300 women in their undies looking serious, don’t look amused - or even if you're enjoying yourself. It makes you no friends at all. I recommend you only smile if they are doing so as well.
This year on the night of the Moonwalk, I got a cab home.
Certainly I’d never heard of it until about a year ago or so, when I was strolling home after a game and a couple of hours in the all-night web café on IRC. Deciding it was a nice night, I decided to cut through the park.
Imagine my surprise when, wandering down the darkened pathways of Battersea Park at 2am, I was confronted with several hundred serious-faced women in bras bustling towards me. I was fairly confused until I shook myself out of my reverie and noticed the signs up indicating what was going on, but for a few moments I wasn’t sure whether to jump for joy or run in mortal terror.
After I realised the true nature of the situation, I couldn’t help but appreciate the farcical nature of the situation, and my head was filled with amused mental images of the Benny Hill show, and the scene in Monty Pythons ‘Meaning of Life’ wherein a man is chased to death by naked women.
Looking about I realised that I was getting a lot of very hostile looks from the passing moonwalkers, and that’s when I realised that I was smirking all over my fat face – at the ridiculous situation, but they naturally assumed I was smirking about something else entirely and they hated me for it, as I was obviously a leering pervert.
Take my advice – when unexpectedly confronted with 300 women in their undies looking serious, don’t look amused - or even if you're enjoying yourself. It makes you no friends at all. I recommend you only smile if they are doing so as well.
This year on the night of the Moonwalk, I got a cab home.
