Friday, October 29, 2010

Professional Naughty Ladies


You may – at times – feel that you are clutching the sexual-arousal spanners of inadequacy too tightly to your fevered* breast at times, when you see the antics of the professional naughty-doings persons portrayed upon you TV or computer screen. However, it should be born in mind that those who engage in professional pornographic endeavours are not – by necessity – of the same proportions or of the same, or similar to us, in our amateur enthusiasm for the delights of the naughty, the moist, and, yes, the perverse.

No doubt someone as familiar as my reader (and her friend) with the highways and byways of these interwebnets is no doubt used to seeing, say, one of the professional naughty ladies in all her elaborately over-frontaged splendour resplendent in a wallaby grouting apron and spats about to entertain a brace of young gentlemen. Furthermore, it is often the case that both of the aforementioned gentlemen are seemingly endowed with appendages that would make a telegraph pole feel inadequate. All three of which then, without explanation or preamble, engage in a moistly energetic and gymnastically strenuous workout, may seem – on the face of it – something we should all aspire towards, if we wish to reach the peak of naughtiness that is surely our birthright as freeborn persons of a perverse nature.

But, hold (and squeeze gently), be not downhearted (or if a more normally-appendaged gentleman – downcast) by these displays. We should not feel inadequate or inferior; we should not even compare ourselves to the professionals. After all, can we not enjoy a kick-about without comparing ourselves to premiership players, or go for a drive without possessing a supercar? Just be proud of what you have got and wield it with all the dexterity and expertise you can muster**, and treat your dalliance partner(s) with care, respect and take pleasure in their debauched moistness – that is all you need to do.


*Or feathered breast if you are of the avian persuasion.

**Please read carefully. I will not hold myself (a-hem) responsible for anyone who tries to weld themselves with mustard.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Hairstylists And Shopping


The day begins early in the morning for the hairstylist breeder with preparing the hangover cures for the hairstylists and mucking out the discarded underwear from the hairstylist sheds, unless that is the hairstylists have been for what is known in these parts as ‘anightonthetown’. In which case, there will be little or no discarded underwear to clear up, as the minimal underwear that is traditionally worn on such excursions is swapped by the hairstylists with the young men of the town in return for ‘a damned good seeing-to’.

Once the hairstylists have been rounded up into a herd, and any stragglers gathered from where they may have collapsed on any point along the road between the town and the hairstylist sheds then they will have to go on the first of their essential shopping trips to any nearby town centre or out of town retail experience. Just as cows need milking a few times every day, hairstylists will need to go shopping, without the release of shopping the amount of money they possess to lead to what vets call, ‘a severely swollen purse’. Although, through the judicious application of their bills, a vet can quite often reduce the swelling in the purse quite considerably, it is best that it is not allowed to get into the swollen state through the use of regular shopping to keep the purse from swelling and causing severe discomfort to the hairstylist.

Some hairstylist breeders have experimented with the use of online shopping, or even the building of shopping emporia within the hairstylist sheds themselves, but these are early days and no hard and firm data has been gathered to say whether these are as good for keeping the hairstylist purses from over-swelling. However, I – for one – feel that the regular exercise of the visit to the shops, even though it can be somewhat of a chore to the breeder and his herders, does help keep the hairstylists in good condition both physically and… er… mentally. Therefore, unless there is strong evidence to the contrary I intend to continue with the practice.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Hunting And The Law



It sometimes happens that accordion indifference is not quite enough to remove the accordions from the vicinity of your breeding sheds completely. Sometimes, even, threatening to sell them double-glazing or life insurance is not enough to get them to flee.

So, then, I hear you ask (yes, my hearing is that good) how can I prevent accordions from taking an interest in my hairstylists, since hunting them with heavy artillery and air strikes was outlawed by our namby-pamby anti-rural so-called government back in the darkest days of the Laborg Collective.

In order to discover the best way to prevent the accordions harassing the hairstylist pens, I did do something rather risky, and some would even say foolhardy. I took a copy of the relevant government legislation, outlawing accordion hunting, down to my lawyer sties and - after making sure I carried no loose cash and that my chequebook was in a securely-fastened inner pocket - I showed the legislation to the lawyers, and then hastily withdrew before they could even enquire about my bank balance.

Only seventeen weeks later - which you must admit is pretty swift for a sty full of lawyers - they gave me back an opinion. But just as I was about to back out of the sty they came at me with bared invoices, luckily I had come prepared and managed to distract them long enough to make my escape unharmed by scattering a handful of £10 notes in front of them. While they were scrabbling for these in the mud of the sty, I got out and closed the gate securely behind me. As the howling threats of legal action for non-payment of fees faded into the distance behind me, I walked back up the hill to the hairstylist pens whilst reading the legal opinion.

Apparently, so my herd of lawyers had discovered, although heavy artillery barrages and carpet-bombing of accordions has been made illegal, it is still quite legal to smear accordions with Thick-Cut Orange Marmalade, providing it is not fired from anything not classed as artillery or dropped from any aeroplane.

This, of course, is a massive loophole in the law, as - as you probably well know - the marmalade smearing of accordions is an ages-old rural sport*. So, that is good news, for once!


*One day** I may write the definitive history of this ancient and well-loved rural pastime.

**If I remember***.

***And if I can be arsed.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Avoiding Absurdity


Those who feel that the application of either fresh cream or certain fruits is all that is necessary for the erotic garnishing of an Administrative Assistant have long balked at the use of apricots, both fresh and dried, in such a situation. Although, I – for one (or a few times anyway) – can well understand their concerns, even though I do not share them. For there is a point (or, in any well-managed and organised perverse situation, many points) when there is the danger of the perverse arts turning from what is a noble and proudly-upstanding calling into an over-elaborate charade.

By way of example, let us take nipple clamps, by their very nature there are even in the most well-attended village hall orgy a finite amount of nipples available for clamping. So, any attempt to use them to clamp elbows, chins, the back of the knee or any other non-nipple erogenous zone moves us from the perverse into the merely absurd. The same, I’m sure you will agree, applies to marmosets and lukewarm custard, especially when the loganberry jelly is not quite set.

So, think on, my little fountain pen, think on.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Arts Council Grant


I come* hot foot and moist in the groin area from a meeting with our local Arts Council representative, Phyllis Styne. She has - it seems – managed to procure a grant for our village of Little Frigging in the Wold to stage an annual Traditional Rural Perversions Fair under the auspices of the Arts Council despite the deep slashing…. savage cuts… slight grazing of the Arts council’s - and other such budgets - in the government’s recent Spending review.

Now, normally, any influx of money into the village is eagerly welcomed by all denizens of the village, whatever the source. However the Arts Council – like all bureaucracies in these benighted times – suffers under the tyrannical yoke of the dread political correctness. Therefore the grant comes with a list of conditions, provisos and other pettifogging rules and regulations about just what perversions, fetishes and so forth are permissible. Along with this, there are several sub-sections and a checklist to ensure that all Village orgies and perversion events are all fully inclusive of the ethnic mix of the area and are not prejudicial to the full involvement of all communities including the transgenered, the disabled, the terminally unorgasmic and the exceptionally over-hairy.

Such is the number of such conditions, clauses, rules and regulations that the Village Council have – after all had undergone a full sensual oils massage, happy finish and a nice cup of tea, decided to turn down the Arts Council’s free money. This, despite the facts that it was both ‘money’ and ‘free’, a concept that seems most alien to the British Rural tradition. But we on the Village Council feel that once we explain about the attempted bureaucratic interference in our free-born right to engage in each and every fully consensual perversion, then the rest of Little Frigging will understand our stance, and find it rather erotic too.


*sorry, I’ll clean it up later.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

The Chocolate-Coated Orgy


We may have all the grace and elegance of hippopotami floundering about in delicate French lace underwear whilst making a blindfolded attempt to thread a startlingly obese dromedary through the eye of a needle, but we are happy. On the other hand, at least, we can demonstrate an almost convincing simulacrum of such a state.

However, village life is not without its tribulations, even in such a rural idyll as Little Frigging. Some times, it seems just an ordinary midweek orgy in the village hall, or some common everyday sexual deviation or even a humdrum perversion is not enough to lift one out of the doldrums that the dreary day-to-day routine inevitably seems to entail. I suppose that is why we have these special occasions – these various rituals, rites and ceremonies - in the village calendar. I suppose throughout history there have been these special times when the normal, the mundane, the day to day has been subverted – a holiday from the routine, if you will.

So, at this time of year – in the village hall - we in Little Frigging have a special chocolate-coated orgy where everyone in the village immerses various interesting parts of themselves into one of the vats of a variety of chocolates placed conveniently just inside the village hall doors, before progressing on through to the main village orgy room. This – of course – adds a bit of variety to what would otherwise just be another run of the mill midweek orgy. For – as I’m sure you are aware licking slowly up the inner thigh of a dairymaid is one of life’s most pleasurable experiences. However, if that inner thigh also tastes of minty chocolate, then I’m sure you will agree it can only add immeasurably to the experience. Not only that, a 70% chocolate librarian is something that everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime. It also goes without saying that witnessing our village postmistress re-enact the infamous Cadbury’s Flake advert with a fully-upstanding Strom Thighhammer must be the high spot of anyone’s orgy-going calendar.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Strom Thighhammer - Outstanding Tourist Attraction


Of late LFITW has often found itself on the tourist map for many different reasons – most, of course, having to do with the village’s well-known expertise in the matters of the rude, moist and extremely naughty.

One of our biggest draws- in several senses of the word, is – of course – our proudly upstanding village blacksmith, Strom Thighhammer, a visit to his forge to see him stripped to the waist and wielding his mighty tool has become a must see for the ladies of our fine nation. Each week we have coach trips from the various Women’s Institutes, Townswomen’s Guilds, Young Mother’s associations, hen night parties, gentlemen’s soft furnishing and musical appreciation societies and many other such institutions.

In addition, many, many women love to see Strom dressed in his volunteer village fireman’s uniform, most of which also seem rather keen on helping him out of it and getting their hands on his chopper or grabbing a feel of his rather impressive hose.

This does mean that during the height of the tourist season, Strom can often find himself overcome and tired of his obligations. Of course, professional that he his Strom always makes sure that each and every lady desirous of his personal attention goes away fully satisfied, even if it does leave him totally limp and completely spent out at the end of the day.

So, if you are a lady and/or gentleman who would like a hands-on demonstration of Strom’s impressive prowess, please book early to avoid disappointment.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The Virtues of Wipe-Clean Plastic Coating


Don't worry my little kitchen utensil, it will not take long for the smaller Welsh Canteen Manageress to removed the glockenspiel from the intimate parts of the gazelle. Still, it is one of those things that always seem to happen around this part of the week, don't you think? So, to be honest, I am surprised that you seem to have made such a fuss about it this time.

But, hush now, it is time for us to move on and speak of more important things. Did you remember to bring the lever-arch file? I have the new diagrams here. We must not get them stained with ketchup this time. Already the instructions for attaching a battery-powered marmoset to the traffic warden have been rendered almost illegible due to various condiment stains.

It seems that the use of a wipe-clean plastic coating would have been - as you rightly said at the time - a wise and prudent investment. I am both chastened and humbled by your perspicacity and humbly request your forgiveness for my unnecessarily high-handed dismal of your suggestion at the time.

However, we are both older and wiser - if a little less moist and supple - now. We can rest assured - as we look back on our lives so far, my little kitchen utensil - that we have done as well as could be expected in sometimes rather trying circumstances.

Monday, October 18, 2010

The Erotic Underwear Catalogues Of Our Souls


Deep down towards the very back pages of the erotic underwear catalogues of our souls lies one particular article we do not really like to refer to, which holds our deepest, darkest desires. It is that place where it is even possible for us – however briefly – to entertain the erotic possibilities of a politician, a cheeseburger or even a delphinium (suitably restrained, of course).

There are so many things that haunt us when we are out in the everyday world, going about our normal perversions with all the enthusiasm – and requisite moistness – we can muster. Normally, of course these dark desires are so far away, almost as if they belong to some other person, some other extremely perverted soul, who wallows in a far deeper morass than we know the wot of. Sometimes I think these are the very demons that must torment those – usually of a loudly professed religious bent – who seem obsessed with the rude and naughty doings of others of a more adventurous nature than the censorious busybody who so loudly proclaims that all except he (or even, she) are wallowing in some slough of despond.

But deep, deep – even deeper - down, we know in our hearts of hearts that deviation, perversion and even just mere extreme naughtiness of a more moderate and modest moistness and rudeness is indeed a noble , proud and – quite often – upstanding tradition that we should hold close to our throbbing hearts and cherish.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Rural Wisdom


Of course, everyone knows the old country saying about whether it is better to have a bird in the hand or your hand on her bush, as well as the one about how hard it is finding a dairymaid in a haystack if you put her down for a moment anywhere within a five-mile radius of Grand Uncle Stagnant. There is also the one about not counting your assistant librarians before they have made a frank appraisal of your volume, and that good old bit of folk wisdom of ‘Many A Mickle Makes A Muckle’ – whatever the fuck that means.

All of which just goes to show that the old country ways are steeped in wisdom (as well as copious amounts of strong ale and cider). Therefore, for the modern world to turn its back upon these centuries of experience in the rude and naughty arts is to, as they say, ‘cut off your peep-hole bra to spite your split-crotch panties’ and other such examples of hard-won folk wisdom.

The modern world does like to think – laughable as it seems to us who know better – that it has invented the art of the perverse itself, little acknowledging the fact that gathering a brace of hot-buttered strumpets a pair of wellies and a grouting trowel can be dated back to the times of the Viking invasions, if not before.

So, modern urban dweller, just think as you ease yourself into you full-body rubber traffic warden’s outfit, people in the rural areas of this land have been dressing up as Traffic wardens for erotic purposes since the days of the Norman Invasion. Consequently, therefore, there really is nothing new under the sun – except, of course, that strange purple outgrowth just below Old Feebletrousers’ knee that has the medical profession of three continents utterly baffled.

Thursday, October 14, 2010



[What a lovely pair of tits]

Of course, during the autumn months there is nothing nicer for the ladies of Little frigging to be out and about the lanes, paths and by-ways around Little Frigging, getting their hands on as many nuts as they can. Of course, it goes without saying that many denizens of the area, now that the falling leaves make a deep carpet on the ground, enjoy a good prodding through the undergrowth.

It is often surprising what warm creatures; snug in their fur can be brought to upstanding awakefulness or offer a warm moist welcome when the hand is thrust into the dark underneath regions.

However, it must be said that the colder weather can make the ladies slightly disappointed at what nature’s bounty offers them when they reach out a gloved hand to take what their gentleman companions can offer to them, soon though, with a bit of vigorous application matters can soon be brought to a far more satisfactory head.

For the gentlemen too, the season does seem to bring back the eagerly awaited blue tits and red breasts without which the autumn and winter months would not be the same. Consequently, many a gentleman can been seen taking himself in hand in a nearby hedgerow to enjoy the sight of these wonders of nature until he is overcome and has to creep limply away as not to disturb the cavortings of these wondrous creatures.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Law and Order: LFITW


There was consternation throughout the entire village of Little Frigging last week when our village policeman, PC Ghonnemadd, was forced to caution Old Feebletrousers for a breach of the peace. Old Feebletrousers was charged with ‘Engaging in an unlawful perversion in the company of a brace of dairymaids whilst nominally in control of his mobility scooter on the Queen’s Highway, in direct contravention of the Naughty Doings on the Highways Act of 1947.’

Of course, by the time the case had come to the magistrates court, Old Feebletrousers and the dairymaids had already eaten the cream cakes which were going to provide the vital part of the prosecution’s evidence, and someone - no-one knows who – had caused the mysterious disappearance of the mallard duck too.

However, several people have noted since that Grand Uncle Stagnant mentioned – in the snug of the Pervert’s Appendage – that he had roast duck for his Sunday lunch last week and the postmistress has several new feathers in her erotic devices cupboard.

Our local magistrate – Lord Mucky-Puffin – also had no choice but to dismiss the entire case when it was revealed that PC Ghonnemadd himself had been discovered with the two defendant dairymaids around the back of the post office last Tuesday. They were, apparently, discovered engaged in an intimate act utilising the PC’s truncheon inserted into a strap-on attachment by one of the dairymaid whilst the other dairymaid, dress as a Police Inspector, was greasing up the good policeman with a economy-sized tub of badger-spleen lubricant in readiness for her associate.

Lord Mucky-Puffin issued a stern warning to the policeman that if he is ever found in such a position again the dairymaids will severally reprimand him – this time with out the benefit of the lubricant - that is unless he invites Lord Mucky-Puffin along too and brings the roller-skates.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Wind-Assisted Perversions


There are not – surprising as it may seem to one of your experience, casual disregard of underwear, wit and erudition – that many English rural perversions that make much use of the kite. This is despite the sometimes quite windy conditions that can blow the traditional English summer drizzle right into your face when trying to perform some of the more tricky perversions. For example that old familiar one involving a brace of dairymaids , a leek and assistant librarian, two shuttlecocks and a member of the clergy, thereby forcing you to pause midway through the Full Reverse Cheesemonger in order to wipe the dampness from your goggles.

The kite, of course, can be used as a way of removing your pervertee’s clothing beyond their reach and to provide wind assistance to some of the more energetic hillside-based perversions. Here I am especially thinking of such as the fully-consensual cheese roll, the strumpet in the dell and the uphill climb – for those gentlemen of that persuasion who enjoy prising each other in and out of tight-fitting clefts.

All in all then, if you are out and about on a typically bracing English day, it is probably wise then to leave the kite at home and use the space on your perversion utility belt for something which will be more use, such as a flask of nice hot tea with a choice selection of biscuits.

Monday, October 11, 2010

A Firm Grasp of Your Plums


The goats are hiding in the azaleas again, Maureen. I suppose we only have ourselves to blame, after all, what is the point of all that custard when the game is afoot, or at least rapidly progressing down the left shin towards the aforementioned foot.

Still, as they say, we’ll always have Tewksbury. That is if you can remember where you put it.

I may have said all that many, many, times before, but it doesn’t mean that there is nothing new that can be learnt from it; especially if you have an accurate protractor and a decent set of compasses.

Now, never let it be though that I do not always advise you who come here often, to look both ways before crossing an assistant librarian, especially when she has such a firm grasp of your plums. Never again will I quibble about her cross-referencing skills, especially when she is not-so-casually, oiling up the largest of her strap-on accoutrements in such a provocative manner, before firmly insisting I to take a closer look at some of the titles on her lower shelves.

Let’s just say I learnt something quite startling about volumes and the amount I could take in that morning, as well as learning that carrying all those books about makes librarians deceptively strong and able to keep a hold on you even though you feel she has gone as in-depth as you can comfortably manage on that occasion.

Still, in the end – and it very much was – I was still able to walk away afterwards – more or less.

Friday, October 8, 2010

What A Splendid Part


Here and now, or – if you prefer – over there and a week next Tuesday is the time when we all must consider the state of our bejewelled orgy kneepads and whether they will last another orgy season or not, especially considering how often the spaniels of your loquaciousness have gambolled across the lawns of your desire this year.

‘But, hold!’ you may very well say, and – if you look carefully you will see that I am already holding myself in readiness for any such ejaculation on your part*. ‘How do you know about what my spaniels of loquaciousness do or do not do across the lawns of my desire?’

I – for one, or if you are in the mood, for two or three – will then just smile my sweetest smile that hints at all the secrets I am privy to. Then, and only then endeavour to change the subject, and – quite possibly – your undergatherings to something a little more risqué for the time of year, without of course running the danger of exposing your wherewithal to the dangers of a sudden sharp frost.

Then we can think about going to water the lupins.


*And may I take this opportunity to say what a splendid part it is.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Mysterious Vibrations


Of course, being a Fully-Qualified Member of Her Majesty’s Perversion Inspectorate means that I am often asked to investigate many perverse goings-on in the general vicinity of Little Frigging. Then – if necessary – do all that I can to make sure that they comply with the many EU and UK directives issued by the relevant authorities intended to put as much bureaucratic difficulties in the way of people wishing to go about their own business in their own way as possible.

However, being a proudly-upstanding British pervert of the old school (uniform optional) I believe that people are quite capable of cocking things up on their own without the meddlesome interference of some bureaucratic jobsworth with a multitude of boxes to tick on some purposeless form that will only moulder away deep within the confines of some pointless filing system.

However, be that as it may, last week I was called to investigate the matter of some mysterious vibrations detected in the Experimental Deep Custard Bath Perversions Laboratory at the University of Lower Crotchstaine (formerly the tool shed at the back of the Lower Crotchstaine Antiques Shop).

Of course, any such perturbations of the space-time continuum that can cause ripples in a bath full of custard can cause many problems with any perversion about to utilise other forms of liquid, semi-liquid or colloid. This can be especially problematic if it is a perversion about to be undertaken under strict laboratory conditions, especially if it involves the use of a laboratory coat, a retort and a pair of goggles.

However, on entry into the laboratory I was able to see for myself the ripples in the custard bath, which were playing havoc with the experiment underway at the time. This was an experiment to see just how aroused an assistant librarian can get when immersed naked into a bath full of warm custard with varying numbers of local volunteer firemen firmly ready for action, with their custard ladles at attention, placed at the cardinal points of the compass around the edges of the custard-filled bath. This is – quite obviously - vital research and of great strategic import, especially considering that it is rumoured the Chinese are close to achieving the optimum fireman/ assistant librarian ratio in their similar experiments in The People’s Glorious Experimental Warm Custard Facility in Shanghai.

Luckily, though, it took me only a matter of moments to discover that one of the laboratory assistants was on her tea-break. Apparently, as I discovered she was spending that time, rather than having a cup of tea, a cheese roll and a natter about the poor quality of last night’s TV, lying on her back with her feet up against the Experimental Custard Bath, whilst intimately engaged with her Throbbing Weasel 90000 set on extra-maximum naughtiness speed.

After, of course, taking a few photos of her – for my… er... a-hem… Official Records, I gave her a stern ticking off and received a firm promise from her not to engage in such acts again, not without informing me first anyway, and a promise to see me around the back of the Laboratory bike sheds in her lunch hour for a full dressing down.

Case solved, later that afternoon, I headed back to Little Frigging, proud that I’d done my bit for this great nation of ours, whilst making a mental note that I must remember to give the laboratory assistant her knickers back next time we meet.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Little Frigging In The Wold – The Computer Game


Last week, having exploited many of the more lucrative methods of relieving tourists of their money, the Little Frigging Village Council decided to explore other revenue-creating avenues. After an extended session of sensual massage and cream cakes – the council decided on examining the possibility of creating a Little Frigging-themed computer game.

Loosely based on the best selling game Grand Theft Auto – Vice City, Grand Uncle Stagnant – Very Naughty Village will be a free-form action adventure game set in the village of Little Frigging and its environs. The player will play Grand Uncle Stagnant in his quest to get to the village hall in time for the Saturday Evening Orgy.

On his way to the village hall, Grand Uncle Stagnant will have to complete many sub tasks.

For example, starting in the hayloft of his smallholding with his weapon in his hand he must first leave a brace of dairymaids fully satisfied with the dexterity with which he wields his tool and the accuracy of his shooting in order to set the player’s skill level from Virgin to Totally Debauched before he sets off to face the ordeal of the cake shop.

In the cake shop, Grand Uncle Stagnant must admire the baps that each of the cake shop assistants offers him, whilst still providing each of them with copious amounts of fresh cream from his proffered weapon for their delectation and delight, whilst also making sure he samples their apple turnovers and peach melbas until they are completely satisfied and he can then move on to meet the End of Level One Guardian – the Post Mistress.

After a frantic 25 minute Post Office queue experience which only those with the requisite wrist dexterity in the use of their joysticks will survive, Grand Uncle Stagnant comes (several times) face to… er… well, not face with the Upper Thyghspreader All-County Face-Sitting champion, the Little Frigging post mistress, Labia Entanglements herself, as he lies bound to the Post Office counter during Half-Day Closing.

If the player manage to get free from the post office before the Post Mistress takes his last post, he must make his escape across a field full of free-range hairstylists wanting to discuss forthcoming holiday arrangements with him, and then traverse the lawyer sties carrying a bag full of money, without allowing any of the lawyers to extract any fees from him, before getting back to the village library where he will have his volume taken in hand by the librarian and her assistant who will endeavour to give him a fully-catalogued entry into their systems.

Once back out of the library, Grand Uncle Stagnant has a race against Closing-Time to collect pint after pint in the snug of the Pervert’s Appendage, before the landlord throws him out and he has to swim the duck pond, to escape from the clutches of the Folk Singers before they cider him to death.

Finally, at his climax of the game, Grand uncle Stagnant has to fight a duel against the wrathful Strap-On Sisters, both out to pound him into the ground with their fearsome weaponry that both can wield with pinpoint accuracy. Only when he has fully overcome both sisters, leaving them lying fully satiated and incapable of any comeback, can he finally win the game.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Inclement Weather and Fetish Gear


Now not many people like to wield their erotic devices when the weather is somewhat inclement, especially whilst wearing wellies. However, for some this is the very peak of enlightened sexual naughtiness, especially if it also involves an umbrella and their lubricating unguent of choice.

Of course, as the year progresses towards the winter and the possibility of snow, it becomes advisable to always include a snow shovel in one’s outdoor fetish gear and erotic devices rucksack, just in case a semi-restrained strumpet or two becomes overcome whilst trying to negotiate a snowdrift when wearing little more than a bobble hat and mittens. Snow shoes – or – in extreme cases – skis, can also be used should a modicum of chastisement be required to warm up any exposed areas should the weather turn chilly.

However, use of a suitably-lubricated penguin or walrus should be left to those well-versed in such matters, especially as the chocolate on the penguin is likely to melt should at be used in some of the warmer nether-regions when undertaking a suitable perverted art or practice, especially involving a fully warmed-up post mistress.

As for the polar bear, just make sure it does fall off the mint, or it will become very annoyed indeed, and it is very difficult to flee from an enraged polar bear across snow-covered wastes whilst wearing bondage gear – take it from one who knows only too well.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Kitchen Dalliances


Well, once you have your brace of dairymaids well in hand, it is then time to consider whether the colander is really necessary, or whether, instead, you can find some other suitable receptacle for your pasta. It is advisable, at this point in time, to get one of the dairymaids to check that you have achieved the right constituency to take the proceedings further forward by requesting one of the dairymaids to take it into her mouth to check that it is – indeed – firm enough. If not the dairymaids will be – I’m sure – more than willing to lend a hand or two to help you achieve the stiffness required, especially if they would like you to add some fresh cream to their baps.

At this time of year, many of those well-practised in kitchen dalliances will find their minds turning to the virtues of having a hot-buttered strumpet or two disporting themselves in front of an open fire for one’s delectation. There is – of course – nothing wrong with this and it has now being conclusively proved medically that there is absolutely no danger of anyone going blind if they do find themselves thinking of such eventualities too often. However, I am informed that it can lead, sometimes, to severe wrist ache and a tendency to over-exert one’s self. So, as in all other such cases moderation is advised.