QI

The Register of Artist's Models featured on a recent episode of QI.  Watch it here…

Comely Bank

This was one of those classes, where everything was up in the air, right up until practically the last minute.  It was being held in a private venue and I didn't know where I was going for a long, long time.  I couldn't raise the girl who had booked me and couldn't get the address from the agency, so had to keep making 'phone calls and sending texts until I knew what was going on.

Eventually, I got the address - then, just a few hours later, I got another text from the girl who made the booking.  The class was scheduled for the Saturday afternoon, but she went into labour on the Friday night.  Babies have absolutely no sense of timing.  I was impressed and grateful that she had the presence of mind - between contractions, presumably - to send me a message and give me an alternative contact number.

The venue was in Comely Bank.  Quite a pleasant part of Edinburgh and one I wouldn't mind living in at all.  Nice houses, nice neighbourhood and nice shops.  Everything is really nice, there.

I made a wrong turn when I got off the bus, but it wasn't hard to find the way and quickly got back on track.  Got onto the street and called up the backup number I had been given.  The girl came downstairs, met me, sneaked me into the room and gave me time to set up.

I set up the room, made some minor tweaks to the furniture and got everything ready.  It's sad that there was one girl missing, but once all the seating was shifted and adjusted, there was still space for just ten of the eleven girls present.  One of them was always going to have to stand.  And the space wasn't huge, so if there had been a pregnant girl, we'd have been taking that into account the whole time.  It wouldn't have been overly problematic, because the classes are flexible enough to cope with that sort of thing.  It would have created a more challenging vibe, though.  And one of the drawing challenges would have probably had to be either tweaked or discarded.

We went for the classic introduction - the one that fools absolutely nobody, but is still fun.  The only girl who knew what was going on let me introduce the class.  Then, when I said I'd forgotten the fruit, she led me into the kitchen on a quest to find some props.  As I was stripping, one of the other girls stepped out of the sitting room and - for her, at least - the surprise was blown as she copped an eyeful.  She kept quiet about it when she returned to the room, though.

I was given a bowl of fruit and I carried that back into the sitting room.  Pretending, as usual, that there was nothing strange about suddenly being naked and carrying on as normal.  Waiting for the shock and laughter to subside, then holding up a banana and two limes and talking about taking the dimensions of the banana into account - the length and girth - before drawing it.

When the first actual drawing challenge was introduced - the one where I ask for two volunteers to be  the other model and the co-ordinator - I might have pushed the comfort levels of the group a bit too far, for a moment.  I produced the canvas bag and the props, but the cheeky nature of those props was a bit misjudged this time.  Normally, the suggestive nature of the whip and the ties (which were given to me by a group who were doing a Fifty shades of grey theme) is received with enthusiasm, but this time they were a bit too much.  I brought out the Dalek and held it up, but even that was rejected.  The Dalek is a great counterpoint to the more suggestive props.  As the last one to be introduced, it almost always brings about a few laughs, because it's such a contrast to the others.

The challenge that would have probably needed to be tweaked is the "Musical Chairs" one.  If everyone is changing seats in a room with limited space, then it's possible that a pregnant girl might have made that a bit less flexible.  I still think it would have been nicer if everyone had been present, though.  We could have adapted that one - or simply discarded it if necessary.

When we got to the "Make A Giant Man" pose, we hit on a new tweak - and one that I might use again, in the future.  One of the girls - the hen - allocated body parts to individual artists, and they all set out to draw them.  The really fun part was one of the girls asking for - and being granted - the penis.

Professionalism slipped a bit towards the end of the class.  Not to the same extent as last time, but there was definitely a bit of growth towards the end, as I was posing for photographs with the girls.  I'm going to have to be careful about that.  I know it's natural and it's inevitable that such things will happen from time to time, but I hate the idea that slips like that might offend anyone or make people uncomfortable.  Thankfully, that didn't seem to happen.  In fact, when I went into the kitchen to retrieve my clothes and get dressed, I think I saw a couple of the girls laughing about it.  That's a better response.

Ultimately, it was a fun event.  As always, I really enjoyed myself and I think the girls did, too.  And perhaps they might get in touch with me later, to let me know how our missing participant got on.  It's a shame she couldn't be there, but I hope she appreciated the pictures and the photographs, at least.

Pavlov's dog

Pavlov studied conditioned responses in dogs.  He rang a bell as he was about to feed them and noticed that they soon equated the sound of the  bell with the imminent arrival of food - and so started to salivate before the food was produced.  This is called a Pavlovian response.

This isn't about Pavlov's dog, though.  It's about my "dog" and about the conditioned responses that men sometimes have to suppress.

Now, some dogs are better behaved than others - everybody knows that.  Young dogs tend to be excitable.  They're eager.  They'll jump to attention very quickly and draw attention to themselves.  A little bit of training, though - maybe a bit of anti-Pavlovian condition - will help to take care of those youthful impulses, so the dog gradually becomes a bit calmer and learns to behave itself.

Now, normally, I can keep good control of my own "dog".  I've always got to be aware of how he's feeling and usually - almost always - I'm able to anticipate any signs of eagerness and have a quiet and discreet word.  Today, though, was different.  Very different.  In fact, it's fair to say that there was absolutely no chance of keeping him quiet.

It started off fine.  The girls arrived, I introduced the class and we kicked off.  They had ordered some bottles Prosecco, so I even had bottle opening duties at a couple of points, which was fun.  I can be easily entertained, sometimes.

I introduced the Dalek for the first pose.  It's a great "warm up" challenge, sometimes, because there's often someone who will completely ignore me and only draw the Dalek.  One of the drawings went through a couple of transitions.  The girl gave it eyes, then added a thing that made me think of a burglar.  I said something about waking up in the middle of the night to find it burgling your home - you definitely wouldn't challenge it.  The girl added some spikes and tried to make it look like Darth Maul, but by then, I thought it looked a bit more like a punk.

It wasn't actually until the third pose that I started having any problems.  I asked for two volunteers and got them pretty quickly - something that doesn't often happen.  Usually, the girls will nominate two "volunteers" and those two will agree.  I've got to make sure there's no peer pressure that's responsible for people being pushed into something they're not cool with, but that doesn't generally happen.

But this time, the two volunteers were genuine volunteers - they quickly nominated themselves and joined in.  I produced the bag of props and showed them to the co-ordinator, who set about posing myself and the other model - she was positioned as a dominatrix and I was positioned on the floor at her feet.  She took a flogger and held it above me.

I'm not entirely sure, though, if this part was an accident.  As I was lying on the floor, the "tails" of the flogger brushed across my penis.  (Yes, that's right - the dog was just a metaphor, for what I was really talking about.  But I'm sure most of my readers were probably able to see through that bit of camouflage.)

Anyway, I was blindfolded, so couldn't see whether there was any intent or not, but the response was immediate.  Now... normally, the girls in these groups are very aware of where my penis is at any time - and even if they're not, then I certainly am.  So there's almost never any contact with it at all - even accidentally, when we're posing together for pictures.  But this brush against it felt very sensual and I rose to the occasion without any kind of hesitation at all.

The next pose is the opportunity for the model and co-ordinator to switch roles and it seemed that the dominatrix theme was reprised.  I was positioned on my knees, with one of my ties being used as a prop.  It was meant to be translated as... I think... a bridle and I had to hold my hands behind my back.  The model also held up my hat, as an extra little detail.  That's as close as I'll get to publishing evidence of the misbehaving dog here, by the way.  There'll be no photographs of it.

 

I was worried while I lay there and waited for the pose to finish.  There was general laughter going on, but that's kind of normal for these events - nobody seemed to make any reference to the erection that I was now painfully aware of.  I tried to convince myself that it wasn't that obvious.  Perhaps I was too aware of every single twitch and - since I couldn't see it - perhaps I was exaggerating it in my head. But when the pose was finished and I stood up, there was no denying it at all.  No ignoring it either, so all I could do was apologise and make a joke about it.  Try and hide it behind my hat.

I looked down and was pretty obvious.  Then I turned and looked in the mirror, so I could see it as the girls were clearly seeing it - and it was much, much more obvious than I could have imagined.  I think, by then, I must have been really blushing.  I could certainly feel that my face was very hot.

I kept hoping it would go down, but it seemed to be there to stay.  I've heard the theory that embarrassment feeds an erection - it makes the owner of it very aware of it, and very conscious of it.  And awareness tends to be an ingredient that an erection genuinely thrives on. And, to be honest, the very feeling of it bobbing and swinging - the weight of it as I move around - has a sort of sensory, tactile effect that doesn't help.  And that feeling of being so completely on display, definitely contributes towards feelings of arousal as well as embarrassment.  I still tried to ignore it and hoped it would go away - but it stuck around.

I was completely aware that seven girls were sitting all around the room.  There wasn't a single direction I could turn in and be hidden from sight from everyone.  And even if I succeeded, there was no way I was going to be able to run a class properly, like that.  I was just going to have to cope.  To brazen it out and keep going.

So I carried on.  I introduced the poses and the challenges, and - after a while - it did go away.  But it didn't stay away.  It returned twice more at different points in the class.  A couple of the girls drew it into their pictures, so whenever it was relevant, I made further jokes about it.  But I started to worry about how sleazy it probably seemed.  I pride myself on my self control at these events.  I don't ever want it to look like I'm enjoying myself too much, and so make it look like the classes are for my own creepy fun, rather than the girls' entertainment.

The humour helped, though.  One of the girls used Pan as a theme and drew me looking like him - adding horns.  That led on to a couple of vague gags about there not being any visible horns at that particular moment.  I genuinely felt that the best thing to do was laugh about it and treat it like it was something funny, while still acknowledging that it was a bit embarrassing for me personally.  I somehow perfected an air of resigned, vaguely apologetic sheepishness.  And the fact that the girls seemed to be completely relaxed about it anyway, made it all feel better.

One of the pose suggestions I had was something brand new - I was asked to stand "like a lobster" with my hands in the air.  Someone really ran with that concept and created something a bit creepy and very, very cool.

Towards the end of the class, though, I hit a stupid note.  I told them that I was on medication - that I had an infection in my knee and was taking antibiotics. I suggested that the reason for the arousal was chemical, rather than biological.  And instantly, a bunch of them harangued me about the fact that I had spent an entire class flattering them, and had suddenly withdrawn the flattery.  They were joking with me, of course, but it was still true.  They had clearly not taken any offence at all, and so - to throw in such a transparent excuse - was unnecessary and stupid.  I was annoyed at myself.

We finished the class with the traditional "Make-A-Giant-Man" pose and some of the girls left, because they had other things to move on to.  The remainder gave me a glass of Prosecco and I hung around talking to them, for a while.  Then we posed for more pictures by the scoreboard and then they thanked me and left.  Almost all of them took cards and promised that they would pass them on to friends.  A couple of them even gave me hugs, as they left - which happens occasionally, but not always.  So, another sign that nobody was offended or bothered by my indiscretions.

In fact, they were genuinely a lot of fun.  It was one of the better classes I've had recently.  A little traumatising and embarrassing at times, obviously, but still great fun.

Stags

I did my first ever stag night, recently.  It was an interesting and very different experience.  One I had to think long and hard about, before I was fully confident that I could - or should - deliver it.  After all, it's a very different vibe.  And not necessarily the right one for the kind of philosophy my business should aspire to - if the business actually has a philosophy.

In the end, I decided that just once couldn't hurt.  Just to find out whether it really was likely to be problematic or troublesome.  The main concern was that men might not be respectful to a female model, but then - that was a bit presumptuous.  I figured that for an art class the likes of which I normally do, they were no less likely to be respectful than the female artists I usually get.  They'd be just as cheeky and most likely a bit laddish.  That surely wouldn't be too bad.

So I hired a model.  It was Alison who helped me with that - she suggested a girl called Karla.  She had, apparently, just been talking to this girl about my classes, and she had suggested that she would do the job for a stag night if there was ever an opportunity.  So the timing was perfect.

It didn't go entirely without incident.  I arrived at The Standard and found out that I'd been double booked - that there was a wedding reception planned for most of the afternoon and the room that I use wasn't going to be available.  Unlike The Fiddler's Elbow, though, the management here really care about these events and they weren't just going to let me down or treat it like it wasn't their problem.  There was a quick 'phone call made and I was literally offered the use of someone's flat - just above The Standard.

Second problem was when the party actually arrived.  One of them was in a wheelchair and the flat was up a narrow flight of stairs.  The guy who booked me was very irritated, but thankfully not at me - he put the blame on the agency for not giving me all the relevant information.  Which was a fair point, because if I'd been warned, I'd have found an alternative option.

But the group got their friend up the stair without a huge effort, we moved into the sitting room and settled down and I introduced our model.

It was a variation of the same introductions that have been developed for my own class.  I made it sound like a boring art class, then stepped into a little side room just off the sitting room, took Karla's hand and led her into the sitting room.  After that, I had to learn how to step back a bit and let her run the show, to an extent.

Essentially, I had to make sure I wasn't upstaging the model - something I've criticised a couple of my tutors for, in the past.  There have been people before now, who have simply tried to take over the whole thing.  I'm tolerant of my staff making mistakes, and the business even thrives on improvising around small things that can make a class more interesting.  But when someone listens to everything I say, then turns up for an event and tries to run it her way - ignoring everything I've said - I don't give her a second chance.

So, I ran this event.  I stepped back and let Karla set the pace, but stepped forward and described the various challenges.  I instituted a blanket "no photography" policy, but discussed that with her first.  That's why this particular posting isn't illustrated.  I might relax that rule if I do more stag nights in the future, but even then I'll be the only person taking pictures.  I can reassure my models that I won't be compromising with the pictures.  Karla said that she would be cool if the guys didn't post them onto FaceBook or the internet, but I pointed out that there was absolutely no way of guaranteeing that - once they had pictures, they had complete control over what would happen to them.

The guys were definitely laddish, but - as I anticipated - respectful of Karla as well.  There was banter and good humour, but it was all just the male equivalent of the same kind of comments and questions I get in every one of my events, so it was all cool.  And Karla was able to banter right back with them.  She seemed to have a lot of fun, too.

In the end, once the party wrapped up, I set about tidying up the sitting room, putting the rearranged furniture back into their original places, returned the key to the bar manager and relaxed.  I'd been tense about the potential for spillage and damages, since we were in someone's private residence and I had responsibility for things like that, but it all went great.

And it was a really cool flat, too.  I wish I could afford to live there.

A sharp, pointy penis

After a couple of not entirely successful classes (one was OK and one was disastrous) I had a return to top form for the latest one, which was a huge relief.  I travelled to Piperdam for it.

The journey was actually a little challenging.  I checked all the bus timetables before I left and found various options that would get me into the local area a couple of hours before the class was due to start, and one option that got me there just ten minutes early.  That one was completely out of the question, since it offered no margin for error, no time to set the room up and no time for me to gather myself and relax, once I knew I was on the site and had found the place I was going to put on the show.

So I caught a bus to Dundee, then another one to Piperdam - a golf lodge - and walked through a small residential neighbourhood until I found a place to get myself a coffee and settle down for a while.  A quick text to the girl who had hired me and then two of them came out to meet me in the restaurant.  Getting better all the time - that gave us time to chat for a few minutes and I was able to show them one of the videos of previous classes.  It also gave me an opportunity to find out how many people knew what was happening (just the two I was talking to) and how to introduce the class to them.

I got a lift to their chalet and was shown into the room where the class was going to be held.  It was dominated by a full size snooker table, which wasn't ideal, but which provided some interesting logistical challenges to overcome.  It meant I couldn't make full use of the room, because the floor space simply wasn't available.  And it meant I couldn't use any of the chairs, because that would have put me completely out of sight to some of the girls.  So I decided I would either lie down on the table, or remain standing for the duration of the class.

I was given time to get ready.  I distributed the pads, set up the music - all that stuff - and then one of the girls came to get me a few minutes later.  She knocked and entered the room, then apologised when she saw I was naked.  It's amazing how often that happens, even when the introduction has been established.  I can't count how often a girl has entered a room, taken one look and apologised as though she's intruded somehow.  It always amuses me.

The girls were in another room on the upper floor, so I was taken downstairs quietly, where I waited out of sight while they were all taken into the snooker room and seated.  I had a brief qualm when I suddenly realised that I was standing next to a glass door, where I could be seen by any random passerby, but I quickly ducked out of sight without incident.

Soon, I was being led into the room.  The initial response was probably not as overwhelmingly positive as I could have hoped for - I think a couple of the girls were more shocked than entertained when I entertained.  I don't think the bride was completely comfortable at first, either.  But everybody quickly warmed up.

All the girls were dressed as French artists.  They had fake moustaches and wore shirts with black and white stripes.  Most of them thought they were supposed to be burglars, so there was some great bits of misdirection going on.  Some of them had been sent out to buy extra props which had absolutely no relevance to the basic concept, so they had all been kept guessing.

I used some of the props for the first pose.  One was a hat made up of plastic fruit and the other was a pair of novelty sunglasses.  And when the first drawing challenge was done, I had no trouble picking out a winner - it was the one where I looked like a naked Elton John with no genitals looking like a mugger.  Fair enough - it's not easy to summarise that picture succinctly, but just take a look.  It's undeniable.

I really loved some of the pictures in this class.  I held up one of my favourites and pointed out that he looked a bit shy, but was just happy to be there.  The legs were uneven in that one, too - with the right leg being shorter than the left - but I felt like that just added to the offbeat quirkiness of the image.

Another favourite was during the "straight lines" challenge.  It was the sharp, pointy penis that really made it work, but I also loved how the arms were drawn - with one held at a jaunty, cheerful angle.  OK, fair enough, it's probably not all that accurate when a person sees an emotional element to a basic drawing, but sometimes I just can't help it.

Eventually, the snooker table had to be used.  It was too big and too obvious a prop, so simply couldn't be ignored for the whole class and so, eventually, I sprawled out across it and did the "Musical Chairs" pose - which involves everyone drawing for the duration of one song, then switching chairs at random, picking up someone else's picture and carrying on with the drawing.  Someone worried that the picture she had picked up was too good, so I said "if you can't improve on it, then just set about ruining it."

The winner of that competition was the result of someone using a lot of imagination - she turned the snooker table into a bath.  I debated a moment about whether I should reward her for using her imagination, or penalise her for cheating.  The reward option won out.

At the end of the class, the two girls who had collected me at the restaurant offered to give me a lift back to the bus stop.  By then, I was really a lot happier and a lot more relaxed with the classes in general - especially when one of them enthused about it to me.  I was also really pleased when the girl who had set it all up told me that I'd been booked because one of her friends had attended a class in Edinburgh a couple of years earlier and had raved about it.  I told her that it was probably me who did both events.  It's really cool when something like that happens.

Not a failure

I had two classes on this date.  One at The Fiddler's Elbow and one at The Standard.  And after the previous week's disaster, I was very concerned about both of them.

During the week, I made repeated visits to The Fiddler's Elbow to check on the progress of their renovations, and to make sure that they were definitely going to be ready in time for the class.  If it had been even remotely possible, I would have found a different venue, but there was nothing available.  On my final visit, I spoke to one of the management staff, who assured me that everything would be ready.

On the day, I arranged for Qba to be the model and Ayusha to be the tutor at The Fiddler's Elbow, while I went to The Standard.  I got my room ready, sat in a corner and started to quietly stress about everything that could go wrong.  Ultimately, I only really relaxed when my girls turned up.  I couldn't call Ayusha, because I didn't want to interrupt her class, but when she didn't call me to tell me about anything going wrong, I figured they must be going right.

This wasn't my best class ever, but none of it went particularly wrong this time - at least, there was no reason for anyone to register any kind of a complaint.  The sad thing was that it wasn't really all that much of a success, either.  It felt like one of those classes that occasionally are a bit misjudged - where the person who booked it didn't really consider that it might not be to the tastes of her friends.  This has happened maybe twice before (which isn't bad, considering I've been doing these classes for four years now) and on each previous occasion, I've managed to get everybody to enjoy themselves after a while. But not this time.

Even the point where I asked for two volunteers was met with complete resistance; something that has never happened before.  In fact, it seemed to provoke a bit of an argument among the girls, about who it was that would have the burden of volunteering.  Normally there's a bit of banter and some mild trepidation going on while they work out what they're volunteering for, which is all part of the humour. But this time the request was treated like an actual ordeal, so I let it go and moved on to the next challenge instead.

(The good thing was that while I was responding to the difficulties of this class, I realised that I was still maintaining a sense of humour and I was still handling every well - and I realised that I'd done the same thing the week before.  I realised that during that terrible class, I'd actually done a lot of things right and that I'd been very hard on myself since then.  I should have been congratulating myself on being able to deal with a very challenging situation and salvaging something from it, rather than condemning myself for not being able to make it perfect.)

I persevered with the girls in this class and managed to make it work.  A genuinely frustrating moment that I had to deal with was watching one of the girls - in what I can only assume was some sort of passive aggressive protest - steadily work her way through an entire sketchpad, use it up, demand a fresh one and do the same thing all over again.  She doodled something onto every single page of both pads and all I could do was observe this and wonder how to handle it when she demanded a third.  I wasn't sure if I should take a stance and simply refuse to hand another one over.  Ultimately, I did give her a third one, but told her there weren't any others.  I always carry a couple of spares, and there were more available, but I kept them hidden.

It wasn't the most enjoyable experience I've had with the business, but at least it wasn't a failure.  Probably the best thing I can say about this class.

Oh - and Qba and Ayusha had a fun class with fun girls at The Fiddler's Elbow.

A disastrous class

Most of my classes are a lot of fun.  Some are more fun than others, though usually there's something to recommend them.  So far, I've never yet had an absolute disaster, though - until this one.

It was so bad that I resisted writing about it for a long time.  Partly because I just couldn't face it, but also because I didn't want to draw attention to how horribly it could go wrong.  But it's only fair to describe the poor ones as well as the good ones.

So... The owners of the Fiddler's Elbow - a location I've used numerous times in the past - sold up without bothering to tell anyone.  Including me.  Despite the fact that I've booked and paid for a room for a class of 21 people.  The biggest class of the entire year.

I can't accurately convey the panic and rage I felt when I realised what had happened.  Thankfully, I always try to set the classes up a couple of hours before they're due to start, so I had at least given myself time to respond.  But I was facing a venue that was completely shut down and had a sign on the front door, saying "Closed for refurbishment".  There was also a handwritten note with someone's 'phone number on it, though.  So I called it and got the new owner.

Apparently I wasn't the only person that the previous owners had simply abandoned, so the new guy - Dean - had already had to deal with some irate clientele.  But by the time I got through to him, I was already inside the building and checking out the rooms that I'd used in the past.  The upper room was still being decorated, but the basement was reasonably clear.  By this stage, I was being very polite, but very firm - I told Dean that I was taking the basement and not offering him the option to deny it to me.

I called up the girl who had booked me, explained the situation - as succinctly as possible - and assured her that I would still be able to provide a venue and a class, but also explained that I might be a little behind schedule.  I was cringing by this point, because I also had to tell her that there would be no bar service, so they would have to bring their own drinks.  And I had to tell her that she would need to enter a venue that was prominently advertising that it was "Closed for refurbishment".  It was the most unprofessional, shoddy service I've ever had to offer anyone and I was hating every minute of it.

After I hung up, I still had to find 21 chairs - and the whole place had, apparently, been cleaned out of all furniture.  So I started raiding the guest rooms, claiming chairs from them and carrying them down four flights of stairs, into the basement room.  I found another dozen chairs in a cupboard and improvised the remainder out of a windowsill and a chest that I covered up with a fur blanket.

And finally - actually ahead of schedule - I was able to call the girl up and tell her that the room was ready (or as ready as it was ever going to get) for everybody to come round.

The girls arrived, I apologised for everything and invited them all into their room.  And as compensation, I offered to disregard the usual time limit and run the class for as long as everyone was having fun.  And then, in the midst of all this, one of the decorators casually strolled into the room, looking for a stepladder and disrupting everything.  Since I'd spoken to him just twenty minutes earlier and already explained that the room was off limits, it was really starting to feel like nothing could possibly go right, by this point.

By then, I was on edge and starting to make stupid mistakes.  This was even worse, because these couldn't be blamed on other people - they were entirely my fault.  I botched the introduction to the class and entered the room while drinks were still being poured, so there was an awkward few moments before I was able to set up the first pose and subsequent drawing challenges.  A couple of times, I was close to panic and the usual humour didn't flow as smoothly as it usually did.  Some of the girls still appeared to be really enjoying themselves and there were the usual laughs at my jokes or my comments about the pictures, but there were others who were clearly not amused and the stony faces were starting to take a serious toll on my self-confidence as well.

Eventually the class wrapped up and some of the girls collected their things and left without hesitation.  I handed some business cards to one of them who assured me that she'd give them to her friends when she caught up with everybody, but I found them on the bar a few minutes later.

A few days later, I got an email from the agency the girls had booked me through.  They had written an absolutely scathing letter of complaint about the class - describing it as "cringe-worthy" and picking apart every single detail.  Some of the elements that came under fire were elements that had worked - repeatedly - with previous classes, but in the context of this one they were apparently embarrassing and clumsy.  Absolutely nothing escaped their scrutiny and I was left squirming all over again.  I called the agency, described how things had gone, agreed that a huge chunk of the complaint was completely valid (but still argued that some of it was unfair) and finally agreed that the girls were entitled to a full refund.

In hindsight, I should have probably argued with that decision and offered to refund half the money.  While I was on the 'phone and discussing the complaint, I was painfully aware of all the things that had gone wrong.  But then, a week later, I did another class for a different agency and while it was going on, I remembered all the things that I had done right - and there were plenty of those.  I also remembered all the girls who seemed to have been really enjoying themselves and who had been participating with complete enthusiasm.

And I remembered all the sketchpads that had been used up.  All the pages that were taken away at the end of that class.  21 girls will use up a lot of paper - and even more was used with the extra time that I had given them in an attempt to make them happier about the shoddy beginning to the class.  All in all, it was demoralising and heartbreaking.  And it was booked through the very agency that gives me about 60% of all the business I get, so I had to worry about the potential for damaged relations with them as well.

So... undeniably a disastrous class.

Improvisation and flexibility

There were a lot of things that could have gone wrong with this weekend - and a few that nearly did go wrong.  But, luckily, it all ultimately went well.  Mainly because I was able to improvise, change plans and anticipate the dangers.

I had one class in Dundee and another in Aviemore.  The Aviemore one had a venue all arranged, so that was going to be easy.  The Dundee one, however, had nothing.  I made a lot of trips to Dundee, and even stayed there overnight once or twice, but still... despite walking through street after street after street, despite walking into every pub and cafe and nightclub I could find, nothing was turning up.  I had a class, but no venue.

A couple of years ago, I held a class in Drouthy Neebors, but that venue was no longer available.  It had been renamed and was under new management - now it's simply called Drouthies.  It was the very first place I approached and the very first disappointment.

I tried to turn it down, but the agency weren't having that.  They simply threatened to give the contract to someone else - and presumably, they would have continued to give that person all subsequent contracts.

Eventually, I found a place called The West Port Bar and all suddenly seemed to be sunshine and rainbows once more.  Briefly.  But by then, I had some serious doubts about the model - a guy called David - I had lined up for the job.  He was not answering texts or emails.  I asked him to provide bank details, which he did - in the most perfunctory possible text.  I no longer had confidence in him.

This led to a fresh dilemma.  Could I rely on him to turn up for the job?  I had offered him twice the going rate, in order to cover his petrol costs - surely that would be enough motivation.  I wasn't convinced.

I recruited a new model as a backup option - a guy from New Zealand called Barney.  But that caused fresh complications.  Should I fire David?  I wasn't sure.  So far, he had been hard to get hold of, but hadn't really given me enough cause.  It was borderline and that was making me indecisive.  So should I send Barney... just in case David didn't turn up?  What if both models turned up?  Should I pay both but only employ one?

And then there was a sudden moment of inspiration - I flipped the problem round.  Send Barney to Aviemore to cover that class instead.  Go to Dundee, personally.  Then, if David didn't turn up, I could handle it personally.

This had the added benefit of me being able to personally speak to a very disgruntled client.  The girl who had booked me for the Dundee class was not happy with the service she had received from the agency.  So if I was there to talk to her myself, I could apologise on their behalf and make sure she received personal attention from me, specifically.  That might sound egotistical, but I have a decent bit of experience with these events, have worked out a good routine and have learned how to be very flexible.  I was confident that I could provide a good show.

So I spent the rest of the week coaching Barney, making sure he was cool with what was expected - all that stuff.  I covered the bus timetables with him.  I told him to set an alarm on his 'phone in case he missed his stop and told him that even if he did, he could still get off at Inverness instead and catch the first bus back to Aviemore from there.  I made sure he had the contact details of the girl in Aviemore and that she had his.  I made sure the he had a fresh and unused supply of sketchpads and two brand new boxes of charcoal.  I spent the week going through every possible scenario and making sure I had as many potential problems covered as I could possibly anticipate.  And I still quietly stressed.

Onn Saturday morning, I got up and went with Barney to the station, put him on a bus to Aviemore and caught the next bus to Dundee.

Now, since my class started before his...
and since Dundee is a lot closer to Edinburgh than Aviemore...
and since I made sure he was scheduled to get into town a good 90 minutes before his class started...
... all of this meant that I arrived in Dundee a good four hours early.  But it was worth it, because I knew that he was definitely on his way.  It's clear that I was becoming a little paranoid by this stage.

I dropped off the kit at the West Port Bar, then wandered into Dundee - not the most pleasant of Scottish cities - so that I could find a coffee shop to relax in for a couple of hours.  Then I went back to the bar to set up, then sit back, relax and wait for the various people to turn up.  Predictably - no sign of David.  So when the girls arrived, I knew that I was the model for their class after all.

But it really was a great class.  As usual, when it all started, all the stresses and background bits of panic just melted away.  I knew what I was doing and I was enjoying myself.  And it helped a lot, that I had one of the most enthusiastic and pleased brides I'd had in a long time - this was no error in judgement made by her friends.  She loved the idea.  I introduced the concept as a straightforward art class, then told everybody that I was going to find the first prop to draw - a Dalek.  I disappeared behind a convenient screen and started stripping off.  Occasionally I called out that I'd seen the Dalek and was trying to catch it - a monumentally cheesy concept, but still fun.  In my head, at least.  Then, when I was finally naked, I stepped out from behind the screen, holding the Dalek and was greeted by a delighted bride.

For some reason - I can't remember why - this pose had me holding the Dalek at crotch height while the girls drew me.  So the Dalek became a bit of a euphemism for the rest of that class.  It's fun the way every class goes a bit different, because I'm responding to so many different things.  The environment, the attitudes of the girls, the different suggestions for the poses.  Even when I'm not asking for volunteers and encouraging a bit of creativity, there's still a lot of flexibility involved.

As usual, I asked for permission to take pictures of the class.  I was granted it, but the girls told me they wanted to be able to vet them before I used them.  Fair enough... I figured we'd go through them all at the end of the class, but somehow we forgot to do that.  So... at this point... no pictures for this event.  Later, I might be able to do the vetting with someone, but at the moment I'll respect their privacy and won't post any.

It's a pity, because there are a couple of good ones in there.  There was one where - during the Make-A-Giant-Man pose - one of the girls drew a really cool arm that got singled out for special attention.  I posed with her, holding the arm over my own.  In a different pose, one of the girls drew my torso - and when she held it up for inspection, I thought it looked pretty cool because it seemed to measure up to her own torso pretty well.  I got her to hold it up in front of the other girls, to demonstrate that.

Throughout the class, I was entertained a lot by the serving staff coming and going in the background.  The lower part of the venue was a restaurant as well as a bar and the staff had to pass our class as they went to and from the kitchens.  They never seemed to look in our direction, so I couldn't help wondering if they were rigidly looking ahead every time they went by.  Like the militant eye contact the first-timers make when they visit a nudist colony - or so I hear.

When the class was finished, I drew aside the girl who had booked me and told her I had been aware of the difficulties she had experienced with the agency.  I tried to apologise and tell her I hoped that she had enjoyed the class, despite all of that.  I think that, in the end, she had fun.  Whether it was worth the hassles, is a different story, but I hope so.  It certainly seemed like all the other girls enjoyed themselves a lot, though.  And the feedback book was particularly popular.  There were a lot of comments added to it.

When the class was done, I tried calling David on both of the 'phone numbers he had given me.  One had a disconnected tone and the other had a recorded message informing that the number had not been recognised.  I sent him an email, but received no response.  I have competitors these days, and it would be an underhand - but very realistic - tactic if one of them was to accept a modelling job, but not turn up.  That could seriously damage my reputation and would cost me a lot of money.  I've got no real evidence that this was David's motivation, but it definitely pays to keep that sort of thing in mind and have contingency plans available.

I got back into Edinburgh before Barney.  I contacted the girls from Aviemore and they seemed to be very happy with the way their class had gone.  Later, when I spoke to Barney, I discovered that he had left all the sketchpads and charcoal with that group - because he thought that they were allowed to keep them.  They were brand new sketchpads - never been used.  Thirteen of them gone for ever.  I have to admit, that took the shine off the weekend a bit.

But still... two classes that had the potential to be absolutely disastrous had - in the end - gone very, very well.  Ultimately, there was very little to complain about.

Applicants

Sometimes this business can be a bit of a trial. Like those occasions, where I need to recruit new staff for the jobs. I recently posted a couple of ads in different places for people to cover for me. I want younger, fitter models to do the jobs wherever possible. I can still do them myself, but I know that there are far better looking guys than me out there.

Right now, I'm sitting in a  coffee shop in Glasgow, waiting for a prospective model to turn up.  So far, he's about five minutes late.  Not too bad, but a bit frustrating, since he suggested this particular place, so he clearly knows how to find it.

Anyway, someone recently got in touch. He lives in Fife and he's called Sid. He 'phones me up and almost immediately there were alarm bells ringing. I know I've made the CFNM reference frequently, when I describe the business, but that's like a sort of shorthand - it lets people know what kind of thing to anticipate, if they're familiar with the initials. It's also a bit of a warning, because when a male applicant makes a reference to CFNM in the opening lines of the 'phone call, I can't help wondering whether if it's just an opportunity to indulge their kinks. It's cool if there's an element of that, so long as there's a sense of perspective involved. The job is about entertaining the clients, primarily, and it wouldn't take much - just one guy who's too keen on flaunting his "charms" - to give the business a very unsavoury reputation.

I asked Sid how old he was. Mid forties. Which means he's older than me and I'm trying to recruit models who are specifically younger than me. So I start to politely turn him down, but before I can even get halfway through the sentence, before he's interrupting and protesting that he looks much younger. He is, apparently, frequently told that he can pass for early thirties.

So I relented. It couldn't hurt to at least take at some pictures and then decide if it was worth meeting him to verify that the pictures were an accurate representation and to see if my initial impression had been a bit harsh. The pictures arrived very quickly, with a message.

Hi there, we spoke earlier today about myself doing modelling work, please find attached some pictures of myself as requested. I look forward to talking to you soon and starting some work very soon also.

I prefer honesty and told you my true age but everyone says I only look 30 and I workout everyday and have a great physique too as I train to look good naked.

Many Thanks

In the pictures, I saw someone who was a bit overweight, looked a bit rough and could easily pass for someone in his mid forties, but if you looked with a very charitable eye, you might actually concede that late forties would be more accurate. Now, these events aren't proper art classes, where anyone - regardless of age and appearance - can be a model. They're parties and hen nights and social events, where the drawing is a bit of a laugh and the girls want to see someone young and good looking. I know that's common knowledge, but it's worth repeating.

So I sent Sid a message - diplomatically phrased.

Hello, Sid

Thanks for your email, but I don't think you're going to be suitable for our art classes. I'm not sure how to be diplomatic about it. We really need people who have a very specific look and you don't fit our requirements.

Thanks for getting in touch.

Graham

I don't want to say "you're old, you're fat, you look a bit creepy, you sound a bit sleazy and you're giving off very bad vibes," because I'm reliably informed that that's the sort of thing that can offend people. So I figured I'd keep it vague and non-specific. Generally just waffle the kind of shite that means nothing at all, but which can't be argued with. I thought that would be the end of it.

But there was another response...

Thanks for the reply Graham, I do no t mind straight talk and will not be offended and also wanted to let you know that in haste and to get pics to you quickly I downloaded my pics from my facebook and thus they appear as they do, little show offy as they are all from parties or nights out etc, I really do feel a face to face meet would let you see the real me and I also was more interested in the cfnm parties and naked butler service etc even if you still feel I am not suitable for the art classes.

But may I ask what you meant by specific look? I have done naked art posing before in local colleges etc, so I know I can do this work and I am also not shy of the raunchier stuff like parties/events and naked guy services if you are looking to expand your business.

Would love a face to face meeting or even a quick chat on the phone and you can ask me any questions if you have doubts in your mind.

Sid

By this point I'm getting mildly irritated. I'd already tried to brush him off, then I'd relented and let him send me pictures and I'd politely declined him, but he's starting to chip away at the reasons I'd given him. I really didn't want to be rude. But I couldn't figure out a way to answer him without either continuing to be vague (and possibly keeping the dialogue open if he still wanted specific answers) or just being completely blunt. I should have gone with bluntness. But instead, I chose to just not respond, in hopes that he'd go away. Yeah, a bit of a cowardly move, perhaps, but I thought it would work.

I also didn't like the reference to "raunchier stuff".  That really felt like he had misinterpreted the entire concept of my events, even though I'd gone to great pains to point out that they're a bit cheeky, but also very restrained.  The girls who hire me are generally the kind of girls who want to have a bit of a laugh, enjoy a bit off innuendo and maintain a sense of decorum.

Anyway, later, I posted more ads on other websites and got a bit of an enigmatic response from someone.

Still interested.

And there was a smiley face. Just to keep it all nice and friendly, I suppose.   I didn't recognise the name. But this particular site has profiles, so I looked up the smiley face guy, to see his profile, before I responded. There weren't any pictures of him, but I was curious. I must have interacted with him once before. Now, since I hadn't gone onto that site in some months, it sort of made sense to me that he must have made an application some months ago. It didn't occur to me that I might have spoken to him more recently, via an entirely different site.

So I replied to him.

Thanks for getting in touch.

I can't remember if we've spoken before, but you wrote "still interested" in response to my ad, which kind of suggests that you applied to be a model already. I'm not sure what became of that, but I've had a pretty chaotic time with the business. I'm starting to get on top of it now, though, so perhaps it's time for a meeting.

I have a job coming up in Dundee, soon. I may have already recruited a model for that one, though. It all depends on whether he accepts it.

Perhaps I could come up to Fife sometime soon to meet you?

I knew he was from Fife, because I had seen that in his profile. And yes, in hindsight, that was a bit of a warning sign. I really should have taken note of the location, but I wasn't paying attention to it. Anyway, his response - about an hour later...

Yes we spoke a while back, it's Sid if you remember me and I would love a meeting. Sounds like we should get together real soon.

And he adds another smiley face. But that's when I figured it out. Fucking Sid. There aren't a LOT of Sids out there. The words "a while back" are pretty misleading too. Like even at this stage, where he's letting me know who he really is, he's trying to suggest we spoke weeks or months ago, rather than just a few days back.   Anyway, it's possible that there are two Sids in Fife who both want to work for me as a nude model, so I figured I'd better be sure. I wrote back...

Am I talking to Sid ******?

The asterisks are his surname. Got to protect the identity of the guilty, I suppose. His response was brief.

Yeah.

By now, I'm really starting to get irritated.

I really don't know how to make this any clearer. It doesn't matter how interested you are; you're just not what I need for these classes. I've tried being polite, but I'm running out of diplomatic responses.

And the fucker still won't give up. He still has a response And he still has a protest some sort of misguided idea that if he can only persuade me to meet him or see the inner personality or something, then I might overlook the age and the fat and the lingering stench of desperation.

But you haven't been clear, and what look is required for nude work? You have not even met me yet.

And even as I was writing this posting, there was one final (I hope it's final) update. Yet another message from Sid just arrived.

Don't sweat it dude, you obviously don't like me as I know I can do the work. Maybe I should look at setting up my own company too.

So... maybe that's it finished. Unless he puts me out of business. That's always possible.

Decorum

I was very nervous about this class, in the couple of weeks running up to it.  It was a private residence, somewhere along Loch Lomond, and I didn't know exactly where.  I had the address and I found out the route, but I still wasn't sure about the precise location.  And none of the routefinder apps I used seemed able to tell me about any buses that went that way.

Down to the old fashioned approach.  I asked at the bus station, in person, where I found out that the bus to Oban went right past it.  It was between Luss and Tarbet, which was handy, too - always great to find out the local towns.  Then it can be as simple as go to the nearest town, settle down in a convenient hotel or restaurant, have a couple of coffees and kill some time, then walk to the venue or catch a taxi - depending on how close it is

That plan usually works.  Occasionally, it fails pretty badly.  Like the first class of this year, when I caught the bus to Aberargie, arrived at the local hotel and discovered it had closed down and I was trapped wandering about the local countryside in a persistent, miserable drizzle.

A few days before the day of the class, a friend and I drove out along Loch Lomond and we checked the area out.  I wanted to see the house itself, but we drove past it and I spotted a handy layby.  The perfect stopping place for the Oban bus, if the driver was feeling accommodating - and they usually are, if the stopping place is a safe one.  We carried on into Tarbet, where hotel was very convenient - and open for business, so I had that covered if the weather was nasty or the bus driver wasn't accommodating or the road wasn't safe.  Everything was cool.

A quick check of the bus schedules reassured me that if I left Edinburgh at 9AM, I'd get there a good two hours before the class was scheduled to start.  A comfortable margin for any potential disrupted schedules.  And so I was on my way.

And it all went very smoothly.  Even better than planned, in fact.  The girl who had booked me called me up while I was en route and offered to drive into Tarbet to pick me up.  So all I had to do was hang around the car park and wait.  And when she found out I was going to be arriving early, she was very happy to pick me up early.  She also told me that everyone knew what was going to be happening, so there was no need for subterfuge - no sneaking in the back door for this class.

There were a couple of fluctuations in the schedule after that, that I wasn't entirely clear about.  For a while, I thought I was being invited in to chill out until the class was due to start.  I said that if the schedule wasn't set in stone then I would be happy to start earlier than planned.  Then I found out that one of the girls wasn't due to arrive until later, so an early start would mean she was excluded.  Then, somehow, we ended up starting early anyway.  I got a little confused at that point, and eventually just figured that the girls had a clearer idea of what they wanted and the schedule they wanted to keep to, so I decided that I would fit in with their plan as best as I could.  I still felt bad for the late girl, though.

When we arrived at the house, I was shown to the room where the class would be held.  It was beautiful and only needed a couple of minor furniture adjustments to make it perfect for the class.  Before I got it ready, I took out the Mac and set up the slideshow videos I'd created, then took the Mac through to the kitchen where the girls were relaxing before the class started.  I told them that if they wanted, they could get a sneak preview of the event, then left the Mac with them and went back to finish getting the room ready.  I could hear the music starting up and shortly after that, I could hear them starting to laugh, so it seemed to go down well.

They were all dressed for the part - with berets and little twirly moustaches drawn onto their faces.  It looked pretty cool and it reminded me of a different class I held in Glasgow one time, where the girls had done something similar.

The pictures were great.  One of my favourites was a Superman picture, which was improvised because the pose changed.  I had started out with my arms in the air, but I pointed out that it would have to be a quick drawing, because I wouldn't be able to maintain that pose for long - so someone suggested I change the pose.  One of the girls had started drawing my arms in the original pose, but she changed them to a cape instead.

Another favourite was from a challenge I had been planning to introduce for some time, but had always forgotten about during the classes.  I asked how many right-handed girls there were, then told them to pick out a chunky bit of charcoal and draw with their left hands instead.  I need to do that challenge again, because it seemed to go down well.  One of the girls came out with a very shaky-looking picture, that I really liked.  Another favourite had me looking a bit like Gok Wan - although I didn't notice the similarity until a friend (the same one who went along Loch Lomond with me last week) pointed it out. I was gutted, because I like commenting on those similarities when I see them, during the classes.

Towards the end of the class, the late girl turned up.  I think she had a couple of children with her, so it might have been that she wasn't able to attend the class because of that.  She came into the room, though, and posed with me for a picture so she was at least able to participate a little bit.

Eventually, I wound up the class and was driven back to Tarbet.  And a couple of days later, I got in touch with my friend (yes, the same one again) and asked about her night out.  She'd been to a Butlers in the buff event and I was very curious about it.  Much, much rowdier than my classes.  And a lot more depravity.

I have decorum.