The Perks?
By JJ.
 

Miss Nude Australia 2004...

Perks of the editorship, particularly in the days before the Gold Coast fell the way of the true latte’ sipping cosmopolitan lifestyle, were few. Free entry and drinks at most of Surfer’s feral night clubs, an intimate knowledge of the slippery rocks in Burleigh Cove and the confidence of a reliable path across them to the water’s edge, casual friendships with semi-famous surfers, and not much else …

But judging bikini contests, by most men’s standards, was certainly one perk.

Imagine my glee then, when I was asked to be a guest judge at … Miss Nude, Australia!

Wow! I was 25 years old and had FULL permission to ogle and rate hot, nude woman while I downed free piss, then maybe I’d go a little crazy at some impromptu after-party in a hotel room somewhere and fulfil my dreams of an orgy where I was outnumbered by women 10-to-1.

Nuh uh.

By the time the pagent got underway, it was already kind of late. By the time half-a-dozen contestants had done their strut (which had to include a strip, dance routine and some show of skill eg: gymnastics, skolling champagne, pole-dancing or in the case of one entrant, covering her breasts in shaving cream and then igniting it – my score: 10/10!) it was close to midnight.

By the time my score sheet was complete, with no less than 25 entrants having been rated based on categories such as “Breasts”, “Arse”, “Legs”, “Swimsuit”, “Skill”, “Face”, "Vagina", "Ears", etc, I could barely stay awake.
By night’s end, I promised myself I would never agree to do a gig like it ever again. At least not without far more compensation than a free bar tab.

Apathy is one emotion I never thought I would associate with a room full of svelte, naked women, but there you go.

Surfing Burleigh, shins free of cuts and scrapes, beats such a thing, hands down, any day.