An emaciated Mancunian ox's erse

And from the archives, here's anothery for your pleasure and leisurely edification. Forgetting the twat in the middle who always manages to insinuate himself into others' pictures, let's examine the two likely lassies photographed here, and I don't mean from a medical practitioner's standpoint either (although perhaps Our Man In Liberec could enlighten us on those types of matters).

The one on the right is everyone's favourite little person communist chef from the city with so much to answer for. God only knows what she's up to these days, although the Adminstrator did receive a cryptic note recently alluding to her possible presence in Mitteleuropa, along with a broken promise of further correspondence. Last we heard, she was engaged in a liaison with a young person of the opposite gender from the capital, having been persuaded of the efficacy of changing teams by Our Man In Liberec. Whatever the current circumstances, we can only hope that she's ingurgitating more of her own product, as at the time this picture was taken she was described by her pal on the lefthand side of having an erse like an emaciated ox.

As for this latter personage, who may or may not have been called Liz, all we can say is that going by this particular picture she was perhaps suffering from an acute iron deficiency. If that was the case, you can take it from us (and she wouldn't) that she was highly unlikely to accept prescribed doses of iron in six-inch lengths.