The music crescendoes. Flesh Gordon's buttock cheeks quiver like custard. He pulls the final string. Exposure with composure. Watch his genitalia execute a series of gymnastic feats. It whirls lasso-like, then stretches and contracts like a piece of hat elastic. A pelvic push-up or two, and it's all over. The audience gaze at each other. "Gord," says a mum from the Cabramatta Tennis Club, "it beats bingo."
There's nothing quite like a Girls' Night Out. Join the girls as they strip down to their emotional undies and dish the dirt on married men, footballers, surfie gangs, the road to enlightenment, life in the cockroach belt, the biological clock and post-feminists, who've kept their bras and burnt their brains.
Hilarious, witty, and disturbing stories from Australia's funniest woman.
