Randy Mandy Teufelsbraten

In Munich's Eve bar, where the B-girls are affluent and fat businessmen roar like jungle cats, there is always something special for the sex-exotic eye. Maybe a dark-tressed Parisian stripper, full-bodied and beautiful, mounted on a prancing white horse. Or a trainer, three tigers and one notable nude, all together in a cage.

Last week the main attraction was just a singer, without props, and reasonably dressed. But the place was full. Mandy Rice-Davies of London was making her show biz debut.

Playboy Packs. She came onstage trembling, spoke in a whisper, and apologized that in her 19 years she had never used a microphone or appeared before a crowd. Facing the wigged high judges of Britain had failed to dent her brassbound confidence, but facing this crowd was something else. "Because my name is Mandy Rice-Davies," she had told the avid reporters a few hours earlier, "I have to start at the top. It's twice as hard."

Her face had a pouting innocence, but seemed too small for her long body. Her small blue eyes were cold and sandbagged with mascara. The spotlight glare was hard on her, emphasizing the coarse redness of her plump arms.

Almost inaudibly she began to sing:

A kiss on the hand may be quite Continental,

But diamonds are a girl's best friend.

A kiss may be grand, but it won't pay the rental . . .

Flashbulbs gunned at her, two tables-ful of old British businessmen bellowed raucous chauvinistic cheers, and Mandy clutched the mike so tight her knuckles lit up. If by nothing else, she was held on her feet by the converging leers of Central Europe's richer playboys, who were there in packs.

No Half Nelson. By the time she got into her second number (An Englishman Needs Time), she wasn't trembling any more. She did slow, undulous bumps and highly negotiable grinds, a smile spread round her ice-blue eyes, and she gave quite enough of a hint of the carnal power and consuming ambition that had made her famous. "Ein richtiger Teufelsbraten," shouted a bull-necked German. "A veritable devil's dish."

Flip, relieved, and sassy as ever after it was all over, randy Mandy Teufelsbraten was suddenly Samantha Showbiz. "I'm going to star in a production of Fanny Hill" she said. "Where else could they get someone so ready-made for the part?" She also disclosed her ultimate ambition: "I want to be another Lady Hamilton."

And who might her Lord Nelson be?

"I haven't found the right chap yet. But he certainly would have to be taller than Nelson."

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