"Et maintenant," shouts the announcer triumphantly, "voici Les Bluebells!" Out from the wings prance 17 abundantly healthy girls, strenuously smiling. They are big, leggy and bosomy. They can do a cakewalk; they can swivel through a Charleston to the music of Yes, We Have No Bananas and Ain't She Sweet? They can shimmy, shake and kick their legs in perfect unison. Then they race into the wings to ruffles, flourishes and fanfares in the orchestra and table thumping applause from the audience in the world-famed Lido of Paris.
Gone from England. But it is a piece of inside knowledge, so...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
