As you may expect many of the villagers of Little Frigging take a keen interest in this my rather proud organ and all its outpourings and ejaculations. Consequently I was not unsurprised when I was perambulating down the High Street recently to have a denizen of Little Frigging - who it was I couldn’t quite tell as I’d just exited the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage and my sight was somewhat compromised – shout out as we passed by each other “Punt!”
Or, at least, I think that was what he said.
Immediately – or about as immediate as anything gets after leaving the pub - I realised I have been somewhat amiss in not discussing river-based perversions here with you.
So, obviously, we will have to discuss the aforesaid punt and just how a gentleman is to go about using his pole to get the most from it without causing any undue distress to the ladies present. Especially when the ladies lie back to fully appreciate the spectacle of him poling them to the climax of their excursions with all the dexterity and finesse he can bring to his poling for their mutual satisfaction.
Of course, a lady engaged in river-based perversions should make sure that she does not – however inadvertently – cause any damage to a gentleman’s rowlocks, as this may make him incapable of getting his oar in and therefore leave them stranding and limp far from any mutually satisfying culmination to their adventuring.