The other week in the recording studio, my partner DD had to read a short passage which was supposed to be a list of school notices being announced over a tannoy by the head teacher. At the end of it, she had to sign off as Principal Victoria.
Of course, being a man of a certain age, I could not help but be reminded of this other Victoria.
[PS I discover, alas, that this pin-up of my adolescent years is not looking nearly so appealing these days: one of those awful warnings against the perils of too much plastic surgery.
PPS One of Flann O'Brien's punning Keats & Chapman vignettes featured a schoolboy who - through some convoluted prank involving honey and/or glue - had become inseparably attached to the academic gown worn by his irate headmaster. Chapman sagely observed of the incident: "I admire a boy who sticks to his principals."]
2 comments:
I'd gladly walk miles for a pun like that last one. *cough*
VP was an eye-catcher, wasn't she? (Actually, I believe she still is, if you can sort of... well, scale your expectations.) I guess you know she published one of those "looking good" books -- the coffee-table equivalent of a Farrah Fawcett workout video -- called The Body Principal.
Ah, yes, I recall that title, don't think I ever saw the book itself.
I was never really a big VP fan; partly, I suppose, because I never liked Dallas.
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