Some of you - those living in the UK - may remember a short romance of England football squad manager Sven Goran Ericsson and a TV star Ulrika Jonsson. It happened in the eve of the World Cup and caused a national-wide outcry. I liked the way Sven run the team and didn't understand why media focused on his private life rather than sport achievements.

Maybe that was a masochistic move but I tried to collect as many materials on the topic as I could, archiving paper articles, recording TV and even radio programmes devoted to it.

The other day I came back from work and turned on my VCR to playback a cassette that had been recording throughout the day. After some worthless stuff, a daytime TV show appeared on screen. Of course, 'The Affair' made a headline. Two hosts - let's call them Mike and Sue - got a grip on the issue. Giving that both Mr Eriksson and Ms Jonsson were Swedes, they speculated that they found lots in common - speak to each other their mothers' language, visit Swedish baths together and even make Swedish family along with all their previous lovers.

It was unbearable, and I was just about to fast-forward the tape when Sue said, 'but things could be even more bizarre would Sven fall in love with another compatriot of him.'

Mike looked puzzled. 'Who do you mean?'

'I mean another pretty Swedish blonde, a star even higher - or should I say taller - than lovely Ulrika, the guest of our studio this afternoon, Miss Breta Sorenssen, the tallest fashion model in the UK, Europe and supposedly in the whole world.'

I changed my mind at once as camera changed angle and showed a guest chair. A young woman in her mid-twenties smiled from the screen.

Being an admirer of tall women, I heard this name before. Several years ago in the Internet, I found a scanned newspaper article mentioned the tallest teenager in the world. It claimed she was around eight feet in height, still growing, played basketball, and considered to try herself as a model. However, that was long ago, and there was only one source of the info, so I decided she was a fake and gradually forgot about her.

And there she was - live and stunning. I couldn't estimate her height as she was sitting three or four yards from the hosts' couch, and cameraman didn't show her full frame. But the face was sweet.

'Hello, Ms Sorenssen, nice to see you,' said Mike. 'You know, if I was in Sven's shoes, I would stick with our guest rather than with Ms Jonsson. Nothing impersonal Ulrika,' he added looking directly into camera, 'I just prefer younger chicks.' And he turned back to Breta. 'Well, it's a general knowledge that models tend to be tall. So, how tall you should be to be the tallest?'

'Well, my height is 2 metres 42 centimetres,' she had a charming accent and unbeatable smile.

'Sorry darling, despite EU rulings I still struggle with the Metric system,' Mike didn't seem to be impressed at all. 'Sue, you always have plenty of lousy stuff here. Is there calculator around?'

'What would you do without me,' was the answer and, indeed, a tiny machine was pulled out from nowhere. 'And even without calculator I know that 1 centimetre equals 2.54 inches. This means, Breta, in Imperial terms you are as tall as...' Sue's fingers danced on the keyboard, 'as tall as... 614 and roughly half inches!'

'Wow! Now I see, the Attack of a 50 Feet Woman was not a fantasy,' announced Mike. 'They even reduced you actual height!'

This time, Breta looked puzzled. Sue in the meantime pushed a tiny headphone deeper into her ear and two seconds later declared, 'It's all wrong! I just learned from our crew that one inch equals 2.54 centimetres, not vice versa!' Again, she took calculator. 'Relax, Breta, your height is only seven feet eleven point two hundred seventy six inches. And that's for sure!'

'Sue, honey, could you please cut this point-something crap and announce the whole figures only?' asked Mike.

'Just for you. It's seven feet eleven inches.'

'Seven-eleven, huh? So, you've nothing to do with the vintage movie, but you obviously are an owner of a supermarket chain!'

As both women smiled on his joke, the host shown little intention to end his one-man show: 'Must admit, I met quite a few tall people but never as tall as 7-11. Breta, how would you respond if an old short fart like me would ask you to stand up and compare our heights?'

'Well, in any other circumstances,' the sophisticated English word didn't give up to her easily, but she won at last, 'I would consider the request inappropriate, but here... Well, I knew what I was up to.'

'Actually, it's me who's gonna be up to... Up to where, I'm wondering,' with those words the host came to Breta and stretched his arm towards her. For the first time camera slipped down her body showing a sparkling grey dress she was wearing and her exposed knees. What a sign: these sharp knees of her were at the level of Mike's mid-thighs!

Despite his own words, Mike wasn't short; in fact, he was very tall. I remember him towering a full head over David Beckham who isn't a dwarf himself. However, when Ms Sorenssen stood up, Sue clapped her hands and said aloud and excitedly, 'Oh Mike, you were a real macho to me, and now look at yourself!' She was right: he looked ridicules: the top of his head clearly didn't get it up to his guests' armpits, and his eyes were below her breasts.

'Yeah, I can see myself in a monitor,' he mumbled. 'Must say, I never felt this short since I was 10 years old. Congratulations, Breta,' he graciously kissed her fingers, 'you managed to dwarf me completely. Sue,' he turned to his colleague, 'aren't you fancy to try and stand next to the tallest woman I've ever seen?'

'Well, I'm not sure I will grow up in your eyes then,' was the answer but nevertheless Sue stood up.

It was Sue who was always shorty in the show. She was even 3 or 4 inches shorter than Britney Spears, so I'd estimate her height at around 5 feet one or two. Furthermore, as if she would like to underline the height difference with the male host, she never wore high heels. This time too, she was in flat croc shoes.

The impact was overwhelming. Sue was standing at Breta's side, her chin right above the Swede's crotch. I couldn't see the guest's belly button due to dress but I doubted top of Sue's head could reach it.

It was the first time that Sue couldn't say a word except 'Oh my!' as she looked perpendicularly upwards. Then she gathered her professional skills just to say something stupid: 'You ARE tall, aren't you? And you're in flats!'

'Actually I'm not,' and Breta lifted her foot to prove it. It seemed like Sue shrank even more: her head wasn't even at the level of Breta's raised knee! 'These heels are five centimetres.'

Mike took an initiative again. 'Do you ever wear high heels by the way?'

'I don't think she needs to, really,' Sue was still in shock.

No, I don't, but being a model, it's inevitable,' smiled down Breta. 'On podium I have to wear them as high as 20 centimetres.'

'That's another eight inches!' moaned Sue. 'I'm embarrassed ever to mention the part of your body I would be up to then.'

'And how do people react when they see you THAT tall?' asked Mike.

'Well, those I work with got used to it...'

'How tall is your next tallest colleague?' asked Mike.

'Male or female?'

'Either.'

'Well, our agency specializes on tall models: PR companies need them more often than one could imagine... Mengistu - he's an Ethiopian - is our tallest man. He's 2 meters 4 centimetres. And Lisa - a Russian girl - is 1 meter 93. She's a good friend of mine, by the way.'

'Still half a meter shorter,' Mike proved to be a good learner in metric system. 'At least, I'm as tall as second tallest female model in this country.'

'I'm not sure about the country, I mean the agency I work for,' smiled Breta.

'Sorry guys, would you mind if we sit down?' said Sue. 'There're two persons here studio feeling uncomfortable. Myself who can't keep a dialogue while craning my neck, and a cameraman who finds it impossible to keep three of us in focus simultaneously.'

Once they settled, she continued. 'But Breta, what kind of show would it be if you - yet in your heels - would be three heads taller than anyone else? All models would be midgets next to you however tall they are! Besides, nobody would buy any outfit made for you afterwards.'

'That's why I have a special role. You know, almost all shows end up with a wedding dresses. They won't go for sale anyway. Generally, they are intended to demonstrate all the designer's abilities and fantasies. And all these ruches, ruffles, embroideries, and ornaments require maximum fabric capacity. And in these cases I'm really priceless,' she smiled confusedly. 'A couturier can put anything he or she likes on a dress of my size.'

'Fair enough,' the topic was exhausted, and Mike decided to change it. 'But you didn't mention how strangers react when they see you say in a restaurant, supermarket or cafe...'

'Well, it differs. Some people don't bother at all; some just freeze and stare in awe; kids usually point their fingers at us and shout, 'Mommy, look!'; adults like to ask our heights and whether we play basketball, some try to compare or ask us to pose for a photograph with them.'

'Oh, how annoying!' claimed Sue. 'You should be tired of all that!'

'Well, I used to when I was a teenager. Now I find it funny to see them come close and try to embrace us for a picture...'

'So kind of you,' approved Mike. 'But obviously there should be plenty of amusing stories related to the topic?'

'Yeah, there are some...'

'Go ahead, tell us!'

'Well, one of them happened a month ago... We just finished a presentation of a new collection, and the fashion house organized a banquet. They wanted models to be in outfits we just demonstrated, so we didn't change, just went to a restaurant, and there was a large knight-styled dinner table. Lisa and I sat in the dark corner and had some cocktails... And then a gentleman in his forties came along and asked me to dance. He was really handsome but being of Mediterranean origin maybe even shorter than Sue... I'm sorry, Sue,' she suddenly bethink.

'That's all right,' the hostess was all-courtesy. 'I'm eager to hear the rest!'

'Well, he couldn't see our frames because of that huge table, all he saw were our heads and shoulders... I tried to reject, but he insisted so politely and was so cute...' she laughed. 'No, no, I didn't agree, I asked five minutes to prepare myself. In the meantime, I thought, I will come to a restroom to show him that I was a little taller than he thought. But before I had time to do that, a waiter brought us a bottle of champagne sent by him - and he himself followed immediately. He apologized for being persistent but said he couldn't wait anymore. Again, in very polite manner. I asked him, 'Are you sure?' and he said that he had never been more convinced in his life. What could I do?'

'And you were in your scenic outfit including high-heeled shoes?' specified Sue.

'Yes. Well, I could hear Lisa's giggle as I stood up, but the gentleman didn't change his mind. He said, 'I never though they have such a high level in this side of lounge' and gave me his hand. But when I came out of the table he became speechless...'

'Poor fella!' said Mike. 'Where he was up to you?'

'Well, I doubt he could reach my chest with his arm fully stretched up,' smiled Breta.

'You mean...' Mike was curious, and Breta demonstrated an unexpected diplomatic skills.

'Let's put it this way: fortunately, I wasn't in miniskirt, so he couldn't see what he wasn't supposed to.'

'Wow, what a reply!' Mike looked surprised. 'This miniskirt thing - we'll come back to it later if you don't mind. But now, how did you manage to dance with a man half your height?'

'In fact, I didn't. He was smart enough to say it would be difficult to keep a conversation during the dance and just asked me to pose for a picture with him instead.'

'What a relief!' said Sue.

'Yes, it was,' laughed Breta, 'A friend of him took a camera, and he stood by my side...'

'By your leg,' defined Mike.

'By my leg... So, that's it.'

'Right, right... Now, please miniskirts... I love them!' exclaimed the host, 'especially with shaped long legs. How long are yours by the way if you don't mind me asking?'

'My inseam is 121 centimetres.'

'That's 47 inches and a half in case you care,' Sue was now very quick with calculations. 'Sure, you do,' she added as she saw Mike's amazed look.

'Why didn't you apply for the book of records?' he asked. 'With four feet inseam plus heels you certainly wouldn't be challenged!'

'I don't think it would be fair,' was the answer. 'It's not my personal achievement, there's nothing to be proud of.'

'Apart from your beauty, you are very decent person, Breta,' said Sue.

'But I am not,' declared Mike, 'so once again I would like to raise that miniskirts issue. Do you wear them? Do you wear them along with heels?'

'Out of podium? No.'

'Bewaring of a heel being stuck between pavement tiles?' Sue demonstrated that she was familiar with the topic.

'Bewaring of somebody being stuck between my legs.'

'What?!' hosts gasped at once.

'Well, I mean... All right, if you want to know everything... The other day a shoe designer presented me 20 centimetres heeled mules. And Lisa - she's always into fun... she liked my look in a miniskirt during a show and bought me one matching the shoes. She found it in a big girls' shop, so it fit my hips but was way too short - only 40 centimetres or so. I said, no way I would wear this outside, and she just asked me to try it indoors.'

'With heels?'

'Yeah. And she wore her shortest skirt and highest heels too... We just fooled around and had couple of drinks... And then Lisa suggested continue in a bar nearby... I can only blame alcohol...'

'So, you agreed?'

'Well, yes.'

'Oh, I can imagine how stunned passers-bye became!' Mike got seemingly excited.

'You bet. But the funniest thing happened when we were already at the doorsteps of the bar. A very short young man - I mean, really short - walked up to us and started to say something about his attraction to a taller women, and that his girlfriend in Brazil or wherever was very tall and played basketball, but he never ever saw a girl this tall... Lisa asked what he wanted, and he said something really odd - to make a picture with him standing between my legs...'

'No!' Sue simply opened her mouse.

'Yeah... We were having fun and had those cocktails inside... And he was very convincing, and no adult person ever asked me to do that before... I only took his promise not to look up.'

'Unbelievable!' claimed Mike. 'And?'

'Well,' Breta giggled, 'he fit well underneath my skirt, and I even got a bit aroused...'

'Mike, are you with us yet?' asked Sue. Indeed, her colleague seemed to be daydreaming. 'So Breta,' she turned to the guest, 'you have a rich experience in dealing with shorter men. But how tall is your boyfriend if you have one?'

'I don't at the moment.'

'What about ex then?'

'Well, the latest one was up to here,' and her hand draw a line at the level of her breasts.

'Am I wrong suggesting that your height is a reason of your split?' Mike lost a sense of tact completely.

'One of them, actually.'

'Or, poor Breta!' Sue became sympathetic. 'Of course, it's hard for you to find a perfect match! But I promise to look for a very, very tall guy and if I found one, I'll invite him to be our guest here. And you should promise to watch our shows not to miss him. Promise?'

'I do.' That was the last word Miss Sorenssen said in the studio. But they didn't finish with the topic yet. A new picture appeared on screen: Breta in a lavish wedding dress with a 'groom' by her side. His head wasn't even up to her armpits yet a presenter's voice announced the male model stood 1 meter 98 centimetres. The bad thing was her dress was too long to see whether she was wearing high heels or not; the good thing though was a ticker on screen: courtesy of The Mayfair Agency, London.

I opened yellow pages and in 15 minutes I knew that the next show that Ms Sorenssen would participate in was going to be in a week time in Ritz hotel. Posh, huh; and I thought, it's time to by new bow tie. Fortunately, a month earlier I was a best man on my friend's wedding, so I'd already had nice smart black suit.