Do not Go Genitalia into that Good Night..

Well, it will come as no surprise to hear that Mr and Mrs GBB were not sitting with their fish finger supper on their laps watching Naked Attraction, Channel 4s new dating show, last Monday.
Blind Date without clothes on. The late lamented Cilla Black is probably rotating in her grave. And only 60 phone calls of complaint! What has happened to the critical faculties of the viewing public?
What is going on? It surely can't be climate change, because that brief spell of warm weather can hardly be called record-breaking. But there is certainly something in the air. I am not sure exactly what it is, but I'm bothered.

Seemingly, naturism is on the up and up. And there was I, thinking that it was confined to a number of beaches abroad with the odd privates only beach in this country. Frankly, I've always had problems with the word Naturalist and Naturist so I have always had to think carefully before getting out my binoculars when walking along a coastal path. But I must stop sniggering, because now Naturism is finding its way into mainstream art. Why do thousands of people in Hull cover themselves in blue dye for artist, Spencer Tunick recently? If you're one of thousands, then I agree you have a certain amount of anonymity. But what about those at the front? (Slightly hysterical concern, here.)

And there was a Party in the Stark in Orpington, Kent this weekend. Well, I 'm glad no-one invited me. Next I hear about a vegan restaurant where the term, raw vegetables takes on a very different hue. Patrons served by scantily dressed waiters, with 99% of those customers attending, in the buff! I am reading this with jaw dropping and wondering where this is all leading to. It gets worse. This was a pop-up restaurant. I know, I know... There are pop-ups all over the place these days.

I recall one of my first jobs with the BBC when I was a trailing Assistant Floor Manager on a show called True Patriot. It starred Michael York as the Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer who was executed for treason during the Second World War. He walked naked to his execution.
There I was, two days on the job, and standing opposite one of the big stars of the time, and he was stark naked. Takes some courage, I thought, but then he's an actor, he probably doesn't give a monkeys.
Not so. This rich deep voice interrupted the take with, "Darling, you're right in my eye-line. Could you possibly stand somewhere else?"
Puce, I scuttled off behind the nearest shrub. Later, he came over and apologised and said he had felt utterly self-conscious. It was very gallant of him.
But in  1977 we both recognised that strutting your stuff, as naked as the day you were born, on a chilly autumn day in Uxbridge was not a natural thing at all.

A fully-clad Michael York