Ah, the romance of the model workshop: the smell of balsa, the chugging of CNC machines, and, er, the walls lined with pin-ups.
After several visits to a particular modelmaker, one of Astragal’s drinking companions decided she had had enough of wall-to-wall nipples and put her foot down. She quietly pointed out to the manager that having walls plastered with 19-year-old lovelies from Rhyll wasn’t a good way of greeting customers, nor did it show the most sophisticated attitude to women. The manager, after initial bridling, assured her the ‘problem’ would be sorted out forthwith. At the next visit she was greeted by the same wallpaper, but with some strategically-placed strips of masking tape.