Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Poking About in the Rough


Now, there are some gentlemen who – apparently – much prefer poking about in the rough for their balls and discussing the merits of getting a hole in one with like-minded acquaintances. However, for those of us who prefer not to get sand in our crevasses whilst sharing a bunker with a willing partner who makes helpful comments on one’s grip and stance, golf is merely a pastime, and – at that – one with a poor taste in fetish gear.

Although, as Grand Uncle Stagnant often attests, it is good to go for a sit down and a bit of rest and relaxation after your 18th hole of the day. However that is something easily accomplished by retiring to the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage’ after a village orgy night and resuscitating one’s self with a reinvigorating pint of the landlord’s best and a packet of pork scratchings. Not only that, for those who enjoy a discussion of tactical finesse and how to improve one’s swing, there are plenty of philosophers of the perverse arts and sciences usually to be found in that cosy symposium. Thus, this mass debate will enable the barmaid, or any other lady patron of the Pervert’s Appendage to get as many pointers as she could possibly desire in one evening.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A Firm Grasp of a Gentleman’s Predicament


There is no more stirring a sight, able to bring a warm glow to a gentleman’s trouser region, than a cake shop manageress getting her warm baps out, dressed only in an apron and oven gloves. Of course, none of us can wait very long to get our hands on her baps, especially when hot and as everyone knows cake shop manageresses are always, always, hot*.

This is, of course, not to say that the other ladies of the village of Little Frigging in the Wold are lacking when it comes to the carnal arts and applied orgiastics. I – for one** - would not wish to disparage any of the other ladies of the village in any way whatsoever, especially the dairymaids with their well-known ability to take a firm grasp of any gentleman’s predicament and not let go until he begs for release. In addition, I would warn any gentleman not to forget those fine upstanding ladies, the Strap-On Sisters, who always makes sure that no man ever forgets their interventions as they forcibly insert themselves into his fundamental meditations and ruminations whenever they feel a gentleman would benefit from the experience they impose upon him.


*This is why, if you want your sausage roll or pork baguette hot, you should always let a cake shop manageress warm it up for you in her oven.

** Or more, if you have the time and your hot strumpets are buttered and ready.

Monday, November 28, 2011

On ‘Just Stepping Outside for a Moment’


Now, as you approach, say, a cake shop manageress with full intent, within a village hall orgy context, it is best to make sure that she is completely aware of your approach, especially if you have just stepped back inside after going out for a breath of fresh air. This will ensure that she doesn’t, for example, drop a stitch in a crucial stage of her knitting, or lose her thread when discussing the shortcomings of their mutual neighbours with a coven of acquaintances when you come upon her unawares.

However, should you have stepped outside during the rest of the year other than the UK’s usual one day of summer; your intent will – no doubt – not be as obvious as you’d hoped. It may even be the case that you need the attentions of a suitably warmly-bemittened bevy of dairymaids before you are once more fully up to the task you have set yourself for the second half of the village orgy.

Furthermore, if you do step outside the village hall on any day other than the aforesaid one day of summer you will have to take care that you do not get you best pair of fetish wellies muddy. When traversing that collection of puddles, loose stones and other detritus the Village Hall Orgy Steering Committee optimistically like to call the car park, it is probably best to bring a spare set of working wellies for such eventualities.

However, unless it is a ‘Bring a Guest’ Village Orgy Night, it is probably best to remove the back legs of the sheep from the wellies before setting out for the evening.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Very Sociable Media


Of course, these days everyone in the mainstream media keeps on about ‘social media’ as though it is all an invention of the interwebnets and the like had ne’er been gazed ‘pon before. However, we in England’s tight knit* rural communities have been networking very socially with each other for a long time now, especially through the typical all-village orgy in the village hall, and – consequently – with the villagers from nearby in the Inter-Village Orgy League. It has even gone international – world-wide if you will, through first the European Inter-Village Orgy Cup and – latterly, since the end of WWII – the increasingly popular World Inter-Village Orgy Cup, where national teams from all over the world (and Canada) compete together every four years in a mutually-satisfying series of competitive orgies until one nation comes out on top.

There you have it (and if you wouldn’t mind stroking it gently whilst you do have it I will soon display my effusions of gratitude for your dexterity). It is proof – should proof be needed, that through the use of the inter-village orgy true social networking can be achieved without any of that tedious arsing about with routers, firewalls and virtual poking (unless that sort of thing gets you aroused, of course).


*A warning here it can become rather… er… entangled if the ladies of the village continue with their knitting whilst engaged in an all-village orgy, especially if the balls of wool get knocked hither and yon around the hall during the proceedings, thus ensnaring everyone in a tangle of moistness, nudity and woollen yarn. This is all well and good until someone in the midst of the entanglement realises they are about to miss their bus and chaos ensues as they attempt to extricate themselves from the wool-bound scrummage.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Polishing his Helmet


As Little Frigging in the Wold is fortunate enough to exist in a quiet rural backwater with little crime, it means that there is little for our village policeman, PC Ghonnemadd, to do most days, other than polish his helmet.

Of course, PC Ghonnemadd is lucky in that on his daily perambulations around the village there are several ladies of the village all willing to give him a hand to polish his helmet. However, PC Ghonnemadd himself has warned them that should an emergency arise while they are polishing his helmet then the ladies must be prepared to drop everything and to stand well back as he pulls out his truncheon ready for immediate action.

As you may well know, many ladies find the idea of a man in uniform quite exciting, especially if they are in a position to help him remove it. Consequently, PC Ghonnemadd always has plenty of women ready to give his helmet a good buffing, even with the danger of his having to leave the vicinity in a hurry. For example, he could receive an emergency radio call-out to investigate reports of mysterious noises coming from the barn where Grand Uncle Stagnant and a brace of dairymaids retried to in order to, as they put it, ‘choke the chicken’.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Muckibelli’s Prince


‘Tarry thee not at the sticking post, always strike while the courgette is warm and well-lubricated with the unguent of thy choosing, my Lord.’ Such was the sage advice by the adviser to his prince by the renowned Renaissance philosopher of the perverted arts and sciences, Muckibelli, in his Discourses on the Erotic Uses of the Pineapple., which was intend as a guide to the best palace orgy practices, not only for Muckibelli’s prince, but also for all the royalty of the era.

The Renaissance, as its name suggested, was a re-flowering of interest in the classical times at – roughly – the end of the medieval period. Consequently, many royals, nobles and even some of the wealthy merchants and traders of the aspiring new middle class were very interested in aping – what they saw as – the civilised values of the classical age, especially those parts involving orgies, perversions and other such rude, moist and naughty goings-on.

Renaissance scholars, therefore, pored over whatever works of classical antiquity they could get their hands on, and - as with the internet today – most of what they spent most of their time examining turned out to be the rude and naughty bits.

Muckibelli himself maintained that the Roman orgy was the apex of civilisation, especially in the then-revolutionary way the Romans utilised foodstuffs to enhance the proceedings, as well as their very liberal use of olive oil and other such unguents and lubricants.

Unfortunately, Muckibelli’s scholarship was not as accurate as he’d hoped and he was – tragically – crushed to death under the wheels of a speeding chariot when trying to re-create what he thought was a typical Roman chariot race-based orgy whilst he and his paramour were still liberally-coating each other with olive oil whilst steering around a sharp corner.

However, the writings of Muckibelli that survived went on to become a classic of Theoretical Orgiastics, still studied right up to the present day at the University of Little Frigging (formerly the cow shed).

Friday, November 18, 2011

On the Necessity of Post-Orgy Wheelbarrows

Now, usually on Wednesdays as we denizens of Little Frigging make our way down to the village hall for the midweek orgy, many of us will of course, have our sex spatulas pre-oiled and ready, especially if we usually encounter an assistant librarian or two in the vestibule in need of a pre-orgy spatula manipulation.

Many of us, as the advancing years force their deprecations upon what was once young, fine and upstanding personage, feel that we need a pre-orgy lift to our ardour. Consequently, encountering a brace of assistant librarians ensconced in the vestibule is always uplifting, even to the most jaded of orgy-goers. This is especially the case if the assistant librarians have deployed themselves in a spatula-ready formation, ready for one to step up and begin proceedings without any of the formalities that often rob these routine village orgies of spontaneity, at least until the turbo sex-weasels are released.

However, by that stage of the orgy most of us will already have used up most of the onion gravy set aside for the purpose (however, the porpoises should have plenty of egg sauce left, if necessary, providing the fishnets do not have too coarse a mesh.)

Still, sometimes age does burden us down, so that by the end of even a light mid-week orgy, many of us feel the need to utilise some one of the post-orgy wheelbarrows set aside for the purpose in the village hall car park to get us home again afterwards.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Hairstylists and Unseasonable Weather


Now, look, I know this is usually the time of year when the hairstylists have normally fully prepared themselves for hibernation. However, this year the time when they begin filling their nests with the materials they need to survive the long dark winter nights: chocolate, strong wines and spirits, DVDs, glossy 'How To Do Sex Properly' magazines and instruction manuals, boxes of tissues, and - of course - several hundredweight of next summer's holiday brochures has not come about as normal.

Consequently, the unseasonably warm weather we have experienced of late means that some of the hairstylists are still in holiday mood, contemplating early winter breaks with all the avid alacrity of a rural vicar in a metropolitan porn emporium on sale day.

This - of course - could play havoc with the breeding cycle of the hairstylists, and thereby cause chaos in the livestock markets. It could result in a catastrophe greater even than the Great Sherry Trifle Outbreak of 1976, which resulted in several thousand prime breeding hairstylists breaking out in uncontrollable giggling before, a few hours later, falling over in moaning heaps, begging to be put out of our misery.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Spanish Practices


Hopalong Arsetwanger is – quite rightly, to what's left of my mind – credited with the introduction of certain Spanish practices into the English perverteer's repertoire.

Up until Arsetwanger returned from the Spanish Civil War, where he had taken a wrong turn just outside Barcelona and had spent the majority of the war ensconced in the bosoms of the ladies of a Catalonian brothel, little was known of Spanish perversions in the UK.

These days, most ladies at a village orgy will know that the deft manipulation of the castanets is a sure way to get her gentleman to be upstanding. In addition, she will know just how to swirl her cape so that she can get any upstanding gentleman bearing down on her to place his horn in exactly the right place for her to achieve full satisfaction.

However, it was Arsetwanger himself who introduced an initially sceptical British public to such widening of the then somewhat insular British orgiastic philosophy. However, a lot of Arsetwanger's influence was very short-lived. Not long after his return to these shores, World War II broke out and – of course – brought with it the Austerity Orgies of that period. Rationing meant that even a Seville orange was regarded as a luxury and with the men away at the front; few women had the chance to perfect their handling of the castanets, at least until the American soldiers turned up... eventually.

With the introduction of the American high-speed perversions, production line and drive-in orgies and fast fondling techniques taking such a hold on British orgy-goers during the immediate post-war period, it seemed that the slower paced European and, especially, the Mediterranean orgy practices had fallen out of fashion.

It is hoped by those of us attempting to keep the traditional ways alive, though, that soon more English orgy-goers and perverteers will, one day, return to the more traditional orgy stylings of our common European ancestry and, consequently, Hopalong Arsetwanger’s legacy will be restored to its rightful place at the centre of everyone’s perverse repertoire*.


*Providing they still have enough play left in their castanets, obviously.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

The Erotic Use of Cardboard


Of course the use of cardboard in a village orgy can sometimes have unfortunate side-effects, especially if the cardboard gets damp, ripped or trampled underfoot in the rush to the half-time hot buffet. Therefore, the erotic use of the cardboard cut-out film star, TV personality, famous stockbroker, mathematician or - in extremely perverse cases - national politician cannot be recommended outside of your own erotic boudoir, sex pantry and/or cow shed whichever is more applicable.

However, the Little Frigging postmistress, Labia Entanglements, has recently taken delivery of some cardboard face masks originally intended as fright facemasks for use during the recent Halloween period. These have proved (surprisingly) popular for inter-village friendly orgies, especially when the Little Frigging visiting village orgy team went up against Lower Crotchstaine in the recent Inter-Village Orgy Cup tie last Saturday.

The Lower Crotchstaine team didn’t take much persuading to wear the masks as they found them much more attractive than looking at each other, thus enabling the Little Frigging team were to become far more intimate with the opposition due to the Lower Crotchstaine team's use of the masks to obscure their…. somewhat… er… interestingly unusual facial features. Much has been said in the past of the denizens of Lower Crotchstaine and their propensity to keep things in the family, much more than is considered normal in any other rural village community, even in those villages where family affairs are quite common, often due to awkward geographical conditions leading to relative isolation for that community.

Consequently, the Little Frigging players were much more willing to get stuck into the scrum with the Lower Crotchstaine team than is usually the case, Little Frigging managed to score several times in the dying minutes of extra time to win the match and thus move on to the next round.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

With a Nip in the Air


As the one day of the English summer fades into memory, the notion of open-air perversions begins to lose some of its appeal. Except, of course, for those perversions that employ woolly mittens, a flask of hot tomato soup or a Cornish pastie*, we begin to turn our minds and any nearby canteen manageress to the thought of more indoor-based perversions.

Of course, for some of the more rigorous indoor perversions, especially those that incorporate either the stepladder or the pogo-stick it is vital to make sure there is enough headroom in the village orgy hall. For, as all gentlemen of good standing know, what a disappointment it is not to be able to get any head room due to lack of space. It is also vital to make sure that any access to the downstairs areas is not impeded in any way just in case the lady of your current dalliance needs you to go down for her.

In such cases, the gentleman should make sure that he is equipped with a hard hat, if in doubt it is advisable to ask someone with the requisite expertise, such as a post-mistress if she feels your helmet is capable of withstanding the rigours of the occasion.


*Or, as in the case of the Gentleman’s Highway Stand and Deliver perversion – all three.