Wonder Woman, and other shows whose iconic status is basically down to tits

COUNTLESS ropey old TV shows are now regarded as classics on the basis of a hot star or stars. Under no circumstances suggest that these were actually a bit shit.

Wonder Woman 

Lynda Carter was stunning and – crucially – had nice tits. The effects were terrible, the stories were terrible, the big pants were terrible. Yes, it ticked all the boxes for a show that’s better to reminisce about than actually watch, apart from the grippingly odd episode about cloning Hitler, ‘Anschluss’. Luckily Lynda’s slow-motion jumping abilities prevented the annexation of Austria again.

The Benny Hill Show 

Always featured ‘Hill’s Angels’ in their underwear, often chasing Benny through a dense psychological thicket of his own sexual neuroses. Jane Leeves of Frasier fame appears in her bra in one episode. It’s must-see TV for fans of tits and extremely shit comedy sketches.

Charlie’s Angels

The stories were dogshit: the Angels join a circus to investigate mysterious accidents; the Angels enter a beauty competition (with swimsuit section) to investigate it being rigged; the Angels hunt down someone stalking air stewardesses – forcing them to go undercover as classic male fantasies. And so on. The only genuinely interesting aspect was mentally debating whether Cheryl Ladd was hotter than Farrah Fawcett, as Columbia Pictures discovered after spunking $55 million on the agonisingly awful film version.

Man About the House

Looked back upon fondly, and the cast, including Richard O’Sullivan, were quite engaging, but fundamentally it was just standard 70s sitcom toss. You suspected the producers knew this, because they put a tight close-up of blonde dollybird Sally Thomsett’s arse in the opening sequence, like a pot of honey suspiciously close to a bear trap.

Miami Vice

Far from terrible, with decent music and the odd hard-hitting storyline, but tits were a large part of the appeal. Indeed, bouncing breasts appear just 15 seconds into the opening credits, closely followed by shapely arses. Being set in Miami guaranteed more of the same, and it’s safe to say audiences were more interested in norks than a guest appearance by The Eagles’ Glenn Frey.

Holiday 

A rare factual entry. Unbelievably, the BBC showed naked breasts in the intro, undoubtedly to prove they were dead continental and blasé about topless beaches. Adolescent males would sit down to watch it religiously, only for it to then feature no more tits. It’s a miracle they didn’t transfer their sexual arousal to Cliff Michelmore, leading to some strange bedroom requests later in life.

Baywatch

A cynical exercise in tits. With awful acting and dull, generic storylines there wasn’t really anything going for Baywatch except mammaries. Take away the breasts and swimsuits and all that was left was people almost drowning, which is quite a sick thing to watch, like 50 minutes of waterboarding.

‘Allo! ‘Allo! 

Continuing the great tradition of saucy British humour – or interfering with the corpse of Carry On, if you prefer – ‘Allo! ‘Allo! sporadically rewarded your persistence with Vicky Michelle, the short blonde one or Helga in a basque and suspenders. In fairness, people don’t just remember that – there was the policeman with the shit accent too. Yes, all in all a fitting tribute to the heroes of the French Resistance. 

Woman not sure whether she should spit or swallow olives

A WOMAN cannot decide whether to gag down an olive or spit the disgusting fruit into a napkin, it has emerged.

Having weighed the pros and cons of each approach, Lauren Hewitt is no closer to deciding whether she should quickly swallow an unpleasant salty mouthful or spit it out before she tastes it.

She said: “It’s less messy to simply pop olives down the hatch, but their revolting, tangy taste really lingers in the back of the throat. It’s a tough call.

“I’m worried that if I spit the olives out then I’ll upset someone. After all, if I’m chowing down on Mediterranean food, what did I expect to taste? They’re part of the deal and I should just put on my big girl pants, pinch my nose and eat them.

“Then again, what about my needs? Talking it through with my girlfriends hasn’t helped. Some of them swear by spitting, others seem to weirdly enjoy swallowing. I wish there was a manual for this sort of thing, it would make life much easier.”

Hewitt’s boyfriend Tom Booker said: “I don’t care what she does. Her body, her choice. Just so long as she doesn’t expect me to kiss her afterwards.”