Exposed

From the film What Women Want, Mel Gibson's maid, talking to Gibson, and producing a thong, said

"What type of woman wears underwear liker this? Ever considered dating a woman who wears real underwear? You know, the type that covers the entire bottom, the way it's supposed to?"

I've seen some things in my time but yesterday on the Square at just before midnight, when a late teenager of about 18 or 19 reached up to embrace a man, her mini-dress rode up all the way, exposing a bethonged, orange botty. All of it. Not just a discrete crescent. Every last inch. Like a giant puffball. We didn't need to see that.

Mary Portas was clearly wrong when she said women in 2017 now prefer larger knickers.

Has new year come to this? What, I wonder, would her father have thought of this unnecessary incident? Are we, even in Rhuthun/Ruthin, unable to self-police ourselves as to what is decent in public and what is not? What, I wonder, will be considered acceptable when her own daughter reaches 18?

Frankie Goes to Hollywood outraged us over 30 years ago. "Are we living in a land where s** and horror are the new gods?" Perhaps so, perhaps both. And perhaps Margaret Attwood's Aunt Lydia was right when she said there was freedom to and freedom from. Do we actually now need a little freedom from?

All that aside, this year's do was well attended. It was the second during which reformed group Yr Adar performed. At least that way there's a proper countdown to midnight. Remember the occasions when there were independent counts all over the place and the whole thing was impossible to gauge exactly when the year changed? Also, in more modern times, there is less overt drunkenness.

Mind you, Wetherspoon's was like an Ysgol Brynhyfryd school assembly: if there was anyone over 20, they certainly got out quickly in the light of the toddlers there present. Let's hope none of the school party disgraced themselves with a rear flash...