4 Sensor
10 So Long as it’s Black
David Jones
13 Maplin Airport — The Inside Leg
Amnon Bar-Tur
22 Liza, Liza, Skies are Blue
Brian Davis
22 Americana/Motoring
Chris Parker
28 Consolation Prizes
Gavin Ewart/Eugene Finkei
35 A Quintet of Horror
Peter Kilsby
43 Judy (and very nice too!)
Mike Bramman
52 The Venal Vices of Vicar Veitch
55 White on, Brother !/Fashion
Sheila Rock
Sexicon 59
67 The Complete R*de Parts of a Woman’s B*dy
Terry Sparks
74 Women’s Lip
76 Sounds Sexy
Mark Royston
82 The Novotny Papers
Mariella Novotny
86 Jeanne
Amono Bar-Tur
92 Paraphernalia
Guest Edited this month by William the Conqueror
94 Readers’ Writes

Editorial Note
Early last year when Club International was but a twinkle in Mr. Raymond’s eye it was intended that his new magazine should combine the best of Men Only with the more venal elements of the 1972 British Rail Timetable (the Intercity night sleeper from London to Edinburgh is not known as “The Wild Oat Sexpress” for nothing). Due to the difficulty of installing sheet-fed printing presses on B.R. chuff-chuffs we had to drop the idea of having full-frontal photographs of Mr. Marsh’s equipment and substitute boring pictures of young girls in the nude instead. Some interesting snaps of Mr. Geoffrey Rippon’s high-rise erections unfortunately had to go out the window too.
In the year that Club International has been on sale its high standard of design has been the object of admiration by all. This month, as in the past, you will notice that Club International’s visual presentation has changed. This ensures that it remains at the top as the best designed British magazine on the market and the envy of publishing houses the world over. Credit for this is entirely due to Steve Ridgeway our Art Editor who never misses an opportunity to change and improve the look of the magazine. These periods of frenzied activity on his part usually occur once a month, co-incident with the full moon (but have nothing to do with the periodic outbreaks of sheep strangling in Bedfordshire). What Mole Brother Ridgeway designs each month in Club International is copied by envious rivals the next. Imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery, or laziness.
This month Miss Mariella Novotny continues her steamy saga of sex amongst the nobs. At Club International we’ve all been dressing up as famous political figures in the hope that Miss Novotny (who freely admits to being short sighted) would mistake us for the real *********** and invite us back to her Mayfair flat for a bit of divisional lobbying. No such luck and I can tell you that walking around in wellies, a Royal Yacht Squadron cap, and lugging a drogue anchor (at least that’s what the salty old Thames lighterman called it when he sold it to me for £300) is no bleeding regatta. I shall try Mr. Thorpe’s well-cut eyebrows next month, though now that Clement Freud’s the member (?) for Ely a course in canine cookery might well do the trick. In case you think you’ve strayed into Hansard I should reassure you that you’re still with Club International. Keep taking the pills! Orchard.