Horatio writes: Thanks to Jamie Isherwood of London, England for this week's nostalgic trip back to the wank bank of our youth.
Coronation Street was the biggest soap opera in England when I grew up offering twice weekly doses of working class life in Manchester. The characters' lives were designed to be extremely bleak so as to make viewers feel better about their own wretched existences. And then came Dallas. I had never seen such a televisual concept before featuring lives so glamorous, dripping in opulence, wealth, champagne, lust and glorious, glorious skulduggery. It was as if my life had been lived in black and white to that point and could now be lived in color. Aspirational television that made my spine tingle. And then Charlene Tilton appeared on the screen as Lucy. Blonde. Ripe. Licentious. And dirty-mouthed. All of the ladies on Dallas were exquisite. Even Barbara Bel Geddes was arousing in an experienced and forgiving tutor kind of way. (OK, I would have taken a pass on that drunky sloppy one, Sue Ellen.) But there was something above and beyond about Miss. Tilton. It was as if someone had pumped everything that made America great into her four foot, eleven inches. Charlene did little of note in the wake of Dallas, bar infomercials for the abdominal exercise machine (of which I own two, sigh). Enjoy this clip of her oiled up and wearing her typical wardrobe, an inky-dinky bikini. Squint during the parts with JR in them and just pretend it is you she is talking to, et voila.