He discussed Angela’s breakthrough moment with her husband, Ken, a former Sun photographer.
A girl was on page three. Yesterday marked the end of Angela Jay’s brief battle with lung cancer.
She was always inside The Sun in the early 1980s.
She also starred in advertisements for boxer Henry Cooper’s Brut Aftershave and Gossard lingerie.
Beside her husband Ken, she passed away in an Eastbourne, East Sussex, hospital. Her age was seventy-one.
He described her as “the perfect girl next door” and described her as a “dared to dream miner’s daughter from the northern pits.”
After moving to Manchester, Angela was noticed by a modeling agency, according to Ken, a 79-year-old former photographer for The Sun. Her birthplace was Sunderland.
“She knew she couldn’t stay there and marry a miner,” he added.
“After she relocated to Manchester, a modeling agency noticed her.”
She was really skilled at it from the start. Very youthful-looking.
Angela was almost prepared to leave. Many of the models require two hours to prepare.
“She looked beautiful even though she was wearing jeans and a dirty t-shirt when I first saw her.”
“I knew she was the one at that point.”
Entitled Landlord Raised Our Rent by $650 – We Had Enough and Taught Him a Costly Lesson
When our landlord hiked our rent by $650, it was the last straw. Living in a rundown apartment with a broken fridge and constant harassment pushed us to the edge. Determined to get revenge, we concocted a clever plan to make him regret his greed and teach him an unforgettable lesson.
Dennis here. Let me tell you about the time my wife, Amber, and I dealt with the landlord from hell while saving for our dream house. It’s been a rollercoaster, but we learned a lot along the way
So, picture this: Amber and I moved into this tiny, run-down apartment a little over a year ago.
We were pinching pennies, trying to save up for a place of our own. The apartment was our stepping stone. Small, but we made it work. Amber decorated the place with some second-hand finds and DIY projects. I swear, she can make anything look good.
The trouble started right from the get-go.
We met our landlord, Mr. Williams, during the lease signing. Now, this guy looked like he had stepped right out of a 1980s corporate villain movie. Slicked-back hair, smug smile, and a suit that screamed “I have power, and I love it.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams,” Amber said, ever the polite one.
“Likewise,” he replied, barely looking up from the paperwork. “Let’s get this done quickly. I have other matters to attend to.”
We went through the motions, signing here and there. And then, like an idiot, I mentioned my income.
Amber and I brainstormed over a couple of beers one night, sketching out ideas on a napkin. We needed something that would hit Mr. Williams where it hurt but couldn’t be traced back to us.
Then it hit us—smells. Horrible, pervasive, can’t-get-rid-of-them smells.
“Alright,” I said, leaning back with a grin. “We need tuna, rotten eggs, milk, and dead mice.”
Amber chuckled. “This is going to be epic.”
We removed the tuna, cleaned out the rotten eggs, scrubbed the milk stains, and disposed of the dead mice. The smell finally began to dissipate.
“Good riddance,” Amber said, wiping her hands. “I hope he learned his lesson.”
And there you have it. The story of how we turned the tables on our greedy landlord and got the justice we deserved. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, remember: a little creativity and a lot of determination can go a long way!
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