The Story of Isa Savage

I accept that it is not everyone who would want to write a song about losing their virginity. However it was a memorable night for me in more ways than one, and a good story should always be told. So brace yourself. You have been warned!

For reasons which I hope are readily apparent, this entry will not be extensively illustrated.

January 1969, I was sat in my geography class in third year at the high school when the school secretary knocked on the door and brought a new girl into the classroom. Our geography teacher, looked around, saw an empty seat and said, “There you go…. grab a seat beside young McNab over there. He’ll look after you”.

The girl, who I will call Isa, for reasons I shall explain later, was no ordinary girl. She was about six months older than me and at least a foot taller. She towered over me, even when we were sat at our desks. In sympathetic parlance one might say she was big boned. She certainly wasn’t fat. She was just big, and well developed, in a huge and hefty sort of way.

When the bell rang for the end of lesson, she stuck to me like a limpet. At break time and lunchtime she remained my constant companion. The following morning when I climbed off the school bus she was there, waiting for me. I didn’t realise it at first, but she was claiming me as her own. I had become the exclusive property of Isa Savage.

She announced to all who would listen, and even those who were not interested, that we were an item and that I was now her boyfriend. I was somewhat bewildered by the whirlwind nature of this one sided teenage romance. It had caught me somewhat unawares. I suddenly found that I was no longer allowed to spend time with my mates. I was now entirely at Isa’s beck and call.

It was announced that there was going to be a St. Valentine’s Day dance at the school and Isa duly informed me that I would be taking her. Being a bit dim witted, and quite subservient, I nodded compliantly and thought better of arguing with her.

 

The big night came. February fourteenth. This was my first experience of having a date and attending a dance as the partner of a girl. Up until this juncture I had turned up at school dances and done nothing more than stand with my mates looking at the girls on the opposite side of the hall.

Once the event was up and running, Isa grabbed me and dragged me from the school building.

“Where are we going?” I innocently asked.

The answer, I was soon to discover, was a clump of trees and bushes on the far side of the school playing fields.

“Why are we going here?” I innocently asked.

The answer, I was soon to discover, was to experience a whole new experience.

As a folk singer I am familiar with singing songs about ladies losing their maidenheads. I don’t think there is a direct male equivalent of losing one’s maidenhead, but if there was such a thing, mine was well and truly stolen that cold February evening.

If losing your virginity to a domineering, Amazonian schoolgirl wasn’t enough, midway through the process I was subjected to even further trauma. A sudden whistle and a shout resulted in the pair of us stopping our fumbling and  freezing stock still. We had both recognised the voice. This was quickly becoming a living teenage nightmare.

The voice belonged to the school janitor, and the reason he was shouting suddenly burst through the bushes where we lay…’Rocky’ the janitor’s boxer dog.

Now I don’t know if you have ever been press ganged into uncharted sexual activity by a giant, and then had the cold wet nose of an overly friendly, slobbering boxer dog sniffing the parts that friendly dogs like to sniff, whilst you lie with your trousers around your ankles amongst bushes on a cold February night… but I don’t recommend it.

Fortunately for Isa and I, the janitor walked on by and Rocky took his cold wet nose and his drools and went romping off across the football pitches. To our eternal relief, we were never discovered.

That night, by losing my virginity, I did not become a man. I became a quivering wreck.

Now, without trying to make excuses, I suspect that not many people perform at their best on the occasion of their ‘first time’. I am simply going to say that Rocky’s intervention knocked me off my stride a little, and that may be the reason that the following week, I was discarded by the mighty Isa, like some broken toy she had no further use for.

Let me tell you… rejection never felt better.

In my late forties, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I was contacted once again by Isa. We exchanged photographs and updated each other on what had become of our lives since February 1969. Isa seemed very keen to get back in touch physically and spoke fondly of that night in the playing field bushes with Rocky the boxer.

To begin with, there was an email every couple of days or so and then things gathered pace with alarming speed. Suddenly I was getting 20 – 30 emails a day demanding my address and telephone number, and when could we meet up again?

I pulled the plug. I stopped responding, changed my email address, drew the curtains and locked and bolted the door.

To write a song about Isa was easy, but I didn’t want to use her real name. I didn’t want anyone to work out who she was in case they put her in touch with me again. So I needed a pseudonym for her. My mother went to school in Cumberland with a girl called Isa Savage. It was a name that had always amused me and it just felt so right when I thought of my towering dominatrix.

So Isa is still out there.  Be afraid… be very afraid, and excuse me while I go and check the chain and padlocks .

Isa Savage

When I was a young lad and just in my teens

I was looking for a girl who would fulfil my dreams

I quite liked the blond ones, the redheads as well

But the girl that I got was the girlfriend from Hell

 

Her name was Isa,

Isa Savage

A girl of extraordinary size

She had hair on her chin and a big toothless grim

And varicose veins on her thighs

 

At fourteen years old, I was only four foot eleven

Still searching for an angel to transport me to heaven

But Isa was huge, she weighed nineteen stone

With her muscles she looked like Sivester Stilone

 

But on February fourteenth, with romance in the air

The school held a dance and I made sure I was there

I splashed on my Brute and I Brylcreamed my hair

I just didn’t plan on big Isa being there

 

I looked round the hall at all the pretty young girls

Spellbound by the legs of the ones doing twirls

And then to my horror and utter alarm

Big Isa picked me up and tucked me under her arm

 

Across the dance floor she gleefully ran

And using my head like a battering ram

She burst through the door, ran down to the gate

It was Valentines night and she’d picked up her date

 

Her name was Isa,

Isa Savage

A girl of extraordinary size

She had hair on her chin and a big toothless grim

And varicose veins on her thighs

 

With her gums she uncorked a cheap bottle of wine

She slugged it all down and vowed she’d be mine

She demanded I kiss her as she ripped off my clothes

Pausing only to wipe something strange from her nose

 

That February night, I remember it well

My virtue was stolen by that girlfriend from Hell

I was too wee to argue, I just did what she said

Cause if I didn’t she’d give me a scud round the head

 

By March it was all over, there was no more romance

And I vowed I’d never go to another school dance

I’d rather stay home and watch the TV

In case Isa’s big sister took a fancy to me

 

Her name was Isa,

Isa Savage

A girl of extraordinary size

She had hair on her chin and a big toothless grim

And varicose veins on her thighs