One British politician says 'scrawny' catwalk models just need a good feed.
One British politician says 'scrawny' catwalk models just need a good feed. TRACEY NEARMY

Recipe to fatten up those 'scrawny' catwalk models

THEY call it the catwalk.

Models walk it as if their hip's out of joint and wear a look that'd turn the cat's milk sour. And skinny? You'd get more meat off a butcher's apron.

Buyers for what the girls are selling would be more likely to be won over by a smile that looks as if they're enjoying themselves and a gait that doesn't appear to have been learnt at a side-stepping class for footballers.

The splinter shape wouldn't get them a job with the Old Masters who in their day wouldn't bring out their brushes if the model didn't have plenty of meat on her bones. Take a look at the million dollar canvases in the Louvre - all the females look like candidates for Weight Watchers and have a rear end like a Kirkland's bus.

Skinny didn't rate with a Yorkshire member of Britain's House of Commons who once gave his view when a batch of Miss World candidates toured the Pom parliament: "They're a right scrawny lot, all in need of a good feed.”

He suggested how they could be fattened up: "Feed em faggots and black pudding. Then for dessert hit em with a slab of parkin and wash the whole lot down with a pint or two of ale.”

Those of you who want to try his recipe might find it as clear as mud if you don't have a Pom interpreter on hand.

As near as I can make out a faggot is not what you think - it's a dish of chopped liver.

And parkin isn't what drivers are flat out finding in Lismore streets: it's a cake of oatmeal and treacle.

The MP said the diet would make them what Yorkshire lads preferred: 'well-made girls so that they can have a good cuddle'.

"The way things are,” he said, "it's like putting your arm around a twig.”

So what did the Miss World candidates have to say about all this?

"He's old enough to be our grandfather,” one said.

"We ought to meet him and size him up.”

He might have taken them out to dinner on the parliamentary expense account.

That's if they could stomach faggots, black pudding, parkin and hot Pommy beer.



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