Either way, she and we agree that Rosie from behind ("I would follow her anywhere," says one fan) is one of the great views in British female muscle, if not global female muscle. So who better to pen an appreciation of Rosie from the rear than our very own self-styled Professor of the Muscular Posterior, Mr C. Moore Glootz...
Yes my friends, C. Moore is back and at liberty, restraining orders all but dropped and everything. A reformed character says my therapist, agreed said the judge. It's good to be back and tasting the sweet fresh air of freedom once more. A commission, they said, an "appreciation" piece is how they termed it. Well, it would be my pleasure I said wondering who I was going to be appreciating. And when they tell me Ms Rosie Harte, C. Moore's heart goes boom boom cos glooteally-speaking this woman is the Bomb!
But wait, they tell me. Can you talk about her back as well? Now, the old C. Moore would tell them where to stick it at this point, that old me being all about the glootz the whole glootz and nothing but the glootz. But C. Moore is a new man these days, a new man with a wider world view thanks to the therapy. It took time for sure - in them early sessions C. Moore had one eye looking up and the other looking down resembling one of them pond creatures that watches above and below the water line simultaneous.
An expert now though. C. Moore takes in the whole, top to bottom, and appreciating to a new level consequently. Balance, in life as in physique, is how my trusty therapist taught me, and modesty aside old C. Moore here turned out to be star pupil #1.
And Ms Rosie was absolutely the first on C. Moore's mind when the good doctor told me to visualise said balance. How lyrical I waxed about her wide wide lats and her taper to her teeny tiny waist! Visualise, the doc told me when C. Moore offered to call up some Rosie rear views on his tablet (mine being locked away for safe-keeping and all). No visuals then, just visualisation. Those gems, those gorgeous glootz - it took a full hour's session for C. Moore to paint the full picture, till I was satisfied the doc could see what I was seeing in my mind's eye. And more, cos I was embracing the whole remember, I didn't miss out those dancer's legs in all their iron-honed glory either.
In group art class C. Moore continues to visualise, coming up with a diagram worthy of Leonardo's perfect proportions dude. Except it's Ms Rosie. And from the rear. Doc says he'd better keep it for my file when I show him it next session. What progress you've made says he. C. Moore felt proud and disappointed at the same time - that drawing had been cracking overnight stimulation I don't mind telling you, but the end of my stay at the institution was in sight, and before long C. Moore's electronic devices were being returned to him and the Slave office was in touch. Feel free to illustrate your piece as you see fit, they says to me. Well gentlemen, it has been a pleasure.
Tomorrow, a brand new guest author takes a (somewhat more academic) look at one of Ms Rosie's other great passions - her songwriting. Till then, you might like to pass the time by looking back at some glutes perhaps not quite as perfect as the Rascal's, but damn close, with some of C. Moore's previous contributions to the FMS archive.
Enjoy!
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