June 7th 1962. A Long, Hot Summer.

During these Covidinous times the diversity and overall quality of your sex life may be suffering. I appreciate that the expiry date for the Covid competition is long past and that this is all about Summer Lovin. But Covid is still with us. If you've read this writer's recent work, you'll realise that this is another script that's designed to develop your role-playing skills and counteract Covid 19.

It might appear to be perfectly acceptable for you to go out to meet someone and produce it from your trousers. After all, the two characters maintain social distance at all times. There's no sex in it.

The problem is that on completion there is the usual element of no holds barred, out and out, all-action intercourse. And when I said it would counteract Covid 19, I didn't mean that it would act as a vaccine. I understand that you may think it will be alright if you wear protection with a new partner. But this is not actually 1962. Pausing to put on full personal protective equipment will kill the mood.

Before you get down to it, you and your current partner will be wearing costumes. He's a successful businessman. The owner of Pierce's Holiday Camp. He should be dressed for the era and the season. It's summer, so light trousers and a blazer with a fresh flower in the button-hole. A bold coloured shirt perhaps and raffishly tieless.

The female character is a buxom but financially embarrassed holidaymaker from London about to attempt to throw herself at his mercy. This we know because she will refer to herself as being "brassic." It's Cockney rhyming slang for 'skint'. Some of you may be thinking "brassic doesn't rhyme with 'skint'. It's got bra' in it though, so it probably refers to the boobs." But, brassic is not a slang word referring to very large brassiere, but an attenuated version of 'boracic lint'.

So, don't worry about the brassiere. It's not a necessity. I'm going to recommend wearing a swimsuit and sarong. Daring perhaps, but I think you can pull it off. If you disagree, wear a floral sixties skirt and blouse with summer accessories. And if you want, a bra'. But it still isn't short for brassic and has nothing to do with being buxom. Clear?

The setting is the owner's penthouse office. This is immediately apparent because the female lead will shortly refer to it as the owner's "magnificent erection." She has been staying at the camp since the previous Saturday and is now standing nervously outside his door.

The first holiday camp in Britain opened in Caister-on-Sea, Norfolk in 1906. However annual leave was not introduced until 1939 when all employees were granted one week's annual paid holiday. By the 1950s two weeks were common and the industry was thriving. The popularity of the holiday camp reached their zenith in the early 1960s before it declined in the wake of the European package holiday boom.

Therefore, this scenario is completely feasible. The lady knocks.

Mr Lustily: "Come in!"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Good afternoon Mr Pierce."

Mr Lustily: "That's Mr Lustily. Pierce is my Christian name."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I do apologise. I assumed that your magnificent erection was named after your surname." Good afternoon Mr Lustly."

Pierce Lustily: "Lust i ly. Rhymes with...er..."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Bustily."

Pierce Lustily: "I was about to say crustily. Bustily wasn't a word that leapt into my mind at all. But yes, bustily will do very nicely too. And you may call me Pierce."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Good afternoon Pierce."

Pierce Lustily: "Good afternoon Mrs Dowd."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Sue Ellen."

Pierce Lustily: "Yes, it is actually. How can you tell?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "No, not 'Swelling.' My name's Sue Ellen."

Pierce Lustily: "Of course. Sue Ellen. Sue Ellen Dowd. Makes perfect sense now. And how may I be of service to you today Sue Ellen?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Well, do you remember when I checked in and you suggested that I should take part in your wet 'T' shirt competition?"

Pierce Lustily: "Of course. I've been focussing on little else since."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Well I'm thinking that I may want you to enter me now."

Pierce Lustily: "You mean you're toying with the idea of taking me up on my offer to enter the wet 'T' shirt competition?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Yes. What else could I mean?"

Pierce Lustily: "Nothing Sue Ellen. But I've been trying to persuade you to take part since you arrived with no success. Now, suddenly, you're asking me. Why the change of mind?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Well this morning my future ex-boyfriend decided to invest our entire holiday fund on the Derby favourite Hethersett."

Pierce Lustily: "I take it that he didn't win."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "He didn't even finish."

Pierce Lustily: "So you've got no money for the rest of your holiday, and you think you could win it back?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I'd like to know what I'd have to do."

Pierce Lustily: "Well it's all in very good taste. The concept of the wet T-shirt contest developed in Spain during the 1940s, with the introduction of the Spanish festival La Tomatina. As you can probably guess, this is a large public tomato fight where participants are soaked with juice."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Sounds very classy."

Pierce Lustily: "Indeed it is. My plan is to establish a contest where busty young ladies wear white T-shirts without bras. Water will then be sprayed onto their ample bosoms, so that their T-shirts to turn translucent and cling to their breasts.

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Not tomato juice?"

Pierce Lustily: "No. This is England and the contest would frequently have to be held indoors. Tomato juice is just too messy."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "And expensive."

Pierce Lustily: "A good point. Water is just as effective and profit margins increase."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I'm intrigued Pierce. Tell me more."

Pierce Lustily: "Well, Sue Ellen, once doused the contestants will take turns dancing and posing before the packed audience, and the winner will be determined by the opinions of an expert panel of three judges."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Positions of awesome power."

Pierce Lustily: Absolutely and with awesome power comes awesome corruption. This is why I shall be chairman with overall control to ensure that fair play is the winner."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "So you'll ensure the competition isn't at all vulgar or demeaning for women."

Pierce Lustily: "Most definitely, the compeTITion as you refer to it will be a celebration of the female form, and I believe you have the raw materials at your disposal to take a place at the forefront."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "And there's a £100 prize for the winner?"

£100 doesn't sound like much. You may be having doubts that such a sophisticated, erudite young lady would consider entering. But remember, this is "June 7th 1962. A Long, Hot Summer." £100 in 1962 is equivalent in purchasing power to about £2,147.63 in 2020. Plus, Sue Ellen has a really spectacular pair of top bollocks.

Pierce Lustily: "A massive prize which I believe you're very well equipped to win. I don't know if you've heard, but there's just been a successful operation in the States where a woman has had her breasts augmented."

The United States. This reminds me that readers from across the pond may not be too familiar with the pound. So, I should add that on Wednesday 7th June 1962 £100 was worth $280.80 which at the time of writing (if you can call it that) would be $2,405.28.

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Yes, I read about it in The Lancet. Timmie Jean Lindsey from Texas."

Pierce Lustily: "That's right. So, I suspect there's going to be a long-term trend where women will want to look like Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield and Jane Russell."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "And me."

Pierce Lustily: "Precisely. I confidently predict that by 2020, the average bra will be 34H, which I estimate is about your size. However, support will be readily available because materials will develop with the space race that will be able to contain far more than the 4.6lbs that I estimate yours weigh."

(A 2019 survey from 'healthline' revealed the average bra size in America is 34DD, a giant leap for womankind from the average 34B of yesteryear, but still well short of Lustily's estimate.)

Sue Ellen Dowd: "It sounds like you've done a lot of research."

Pierce Lustily: "You have to if you want to be successful in the leisure industry. If women want bigger breasts today, men will want to see them tomorrow."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "That's true. Whenever I walk past a building site there are cries of 'Get your tits out for the boys!' Actually, that's how I met my future ex-boyfriend."

Pierce Lustily: "A silver-tongued gambler. It's just a mystery that you would want to be rid of him."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I was young and inexperienced."

Pierce Lustily: "But now you're older and more worldly wise."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Yes, I've learned a lot during the last week. I've come to realise that asking a lady to get her tits out for the boys is not a compliment and that betting on the gee gees isn't the manifestation of a thrill seeker who lives life on the edge."

Pierce Lustily: "It's getting worse. First he makes a wager on a horse, then he bets on a buck toothed Aussie band."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "That's the Bee Gees."

Pierce Lustily: "Yes, of course. They're playing here tonight. They're terrible. They'll never make it. They haven't even got a manager. But I got them really cheap."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I heard them practicing on my way up. I thought that they were brilliant. And so charming. One of them said that I was more than a woman and that he was going to write a song about me."

Pierce Lustily: "Very gentlemanly."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Yes, you should sign them up."

Pierce Lustily: "They'd have no chance in the wet 'T' shirt competition."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I'm beginning to think you're a bit fixated about wet 'T' shirts."

Pierce Lustily: "Of course I'm not. Diversification is key. There'll be other contests on adult nights. 'Plonker of the Week', for example. There's another £100 prize for that. Plus, the winner has the chance to come back for 'Knob of the Year.' Perhaps your boyfriend might like to enter."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "God no! His willy is absolutely minuscule."

Pierce Lustily: "Really? You must be one of those who believes that size isn't important."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I wouldn't know. I'm a virgin."

Pierce Lustily: "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Well, Mary maybe."

Pierce Lustily: "I'm sorry. Of course, you're a virgin. Why shouldn't someone who looks like you be a virgin?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "I'm waiting for Mr Right. Perhaps I'll meet him at the 'Plonker of the Week' competition."

Pierce Lustily: "You might be disappointed. It's not a contest where men with large penises display themselves. That would be vulgar. It's when the wife or girlfriend tells a defamatory anecdote about her husband or boyfriend such as when he blew all their cash on a horse. Or 'Arse of the Week,' which I think could be a winner."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "A weekly qualifying competition where the husband or boyfriend tells a defamatory anecdote about his wife or girlfriend when she's done something really crass such as hit him over the head multiple times with a frying pan?"

Pierce Lustily: "No, where the wife or girlfriend reveals her shapely back-side to the audience and the winner is determined by the opinions of an expert panel of judges with me in overall control."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "You have a great deal of overall control."

Pierce Lustily: "Does that mean you'll dance and pose before a packed auditorium bra-less in a soaking white T-shirt?"

Sue Ellen Dowd: "If you think it will give me a better chance at the £100."

Pierce Lustily: "I'm certain of it."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Then unhook me and give 'em a good dousing."

Pierce Lustily: "I have no doubt that if you turn up at ten o'clock tonight and do that, you'll end up with more than enough cash for a very fine holiday. But I must insist on the ten-bob entry fee upfront."

(A 'bob' is slang for a shilling, from the old English "Scilling" which was part of the common currency created in 1707 by Article 16 of the Articles of Union and continued in use until decimalisation in 1971. In the traditional pounds, shillings and pence system, there were 20 shillings per pound and 12 pence per shilling. So, ten shillings was the equivalent of half a pound.)

Sue Ellen Dowd: "But I'm absolutely brassic. Could you take it out of the winnings?"

Pierce Lustily: "I wish I could. But I have to be seen to be utterly impartial. If only there was a way you could earn such a sum in time, but there isn't."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "How about if I was to show you my shapely bottom in order to innocently solicit advice for entry into the 'Arse of the Week' contest, co-incidentally at the same point as you were removing your pants due to a potentially dangerous coffee spilling accident?"

Pierce Lustily: "And in my attempt to avoid a nasty scalding, I slipped and impaled myself on your particularly private part."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "And then in a blind panic you thrust deeper and deeper inside me, only stopping when your red-hot semen squirted deep inside my womb."

Pierce Lustily: "And I was so embarrassed, but you said it was a completely understandable accident and you'd have a good laugh about it later with your boyfriend."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "But you insisted you had to pay me compensation."

Pierce Lustily: "And you replied you would take the nominal sum of ten shillings (See above), but only if you could use it as the entry fee."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Exactly."

Pierce Lustily: "Sounds like a plan."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "And you think that because my idiot boyfriend lost all our holiday money on the Derby, I would surrender my maidenhood for half a quid?" (Pound.)

Pierce Lustily: "Yes."

Sue Ellen Dowd: "Well you'd be a shrewder judge of horse-flesh than he is. Let's see if you're a contender for 'Knob of the Year' then!"