Livin’ Doll

‘HE’S got himself a cryin’, talkin’, sleepin’, walkin’, livin’ doll. He’s gotta do his best to please her, just cos she’s a livin’ doll.

”I’ll never lay my hands on another woman again”

He’s got a rovin’ eye and that is why she satisfies his soul. He’s got the one and only walkin’, talkin’, livin’ doll.

Take a look at her hair, it’s almost real, highlighted to blonde perfection, to match, er, his.

But he doesn’t have to lock her up a trunk so no big hunk can steal her away, because he’s Darren Day and she’s Adele Vellacott…and they are in love.

She makes Darren feel like a man, and the day he met Adele he knew he was the winner. ”We should be together,” said Darren in not so many words, and she agreed.

And looking at the two of them cuddled up close in the garden, on the sofa, on the bed, on the steps, on a pile of wood, by a window, back on the bed, by a pile of wood and by a wooden door, it is clear that some people are born for each other.

They love to walk holding the other one’s hand. They always understand. She knows that although he missed her nights, and she missed him day, he would return from his televised Australian adventure to be once more her little bitty pretty one.

”You’re my love,” says he with his eyes. ”You’re my angel. You’re the girl of my dreams. And I’d like to thank you for waiting patiently.”

Nice, and totally original. But let’s not intrude a moment longer, and simply say congratulations and celebrations to the bachelor boy, a misunderstood man, and his devilish woman, for whom life is one long Cliff Richard song.

‘

Posted: 23rd, September 2002 | In: Reviews Comment | TrackBack | Permalink