I saw that video too, Mike, before I read the Crimeline account. But you have to admit that there is something horribly tabloid about your clip. I could muse all night about how young women, often quite inebriated, can cope with stilettos. Think I may have consorted with one or two meself in my misbegotten youth. I marvel at the way women (admittedly not inebriated) can do the jive or the Charleston on Strictly, dancing like whirlwinds on impossibly high and skinny stilettos. It ill behoves men, I feel, to judge how pissed a woman is on the basis of how she copes with her shoes. I used to get very pissed meself of a Friday or Saturday when I was a wastrel student. More often than not I would, somehow, manfully get home, one way or another. Call it the homing urge or the survival instinct. But once home I would collapse on my bed, totally insensible. I would wake up, stinking and groggy as hell, eight hours later, still in my Saturday glad rags, possibly having pissed my pantalons. Someone could have raped me and I wouldn't have known about it.




Know what I'm sayin'?