Thursday, March 31, 2011

Dairymaids in the Undergrowth

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As the spring grows on apace, one’s thoughts naturally turn towards chasing a brace of dairymaids through the undergrowth and ensconcing one’s self in a discreet thicket with them in order to discuss matters arising.

Not only that, the ladies of Little Frigging will be out now the evenings are getting lighter, looking for any errant fireman, policeman or other uniformed man of natural authority to assist them achieve their wants and desires with a manly firmness that leaves the ladies fully satiated.

Of course, our local vicar, Rev. Counter, once he has got the tiresome business of religion out of the way for another week will be making haste to the church tower. The place where he and his live-in campanologist will be busy polishing each other’s bell-end and tugging one another’s rope until their bells ring out in a manner that brings deep satisfaction to them both.

Meanwhile, I in my position as Professor of Theoretical and Applied Orgiastics at the University of Little Frigging in the Wold will be taking my students in hand and preparing them for their oral exams at the end of this term. I will also be instructing my Post-Graduate students in advanced use of the watermelon, and how to approach a cake shop assistant with the sex spatulas in the ‘Ready’ position, without causing undue distress to the chicken.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

All-Village Weekend Orgy Tea-Breaks

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Of course, it goes without saying, although I am going to say it anyway, that all manner of subjects come up for discussion during the statutory tea breaks taken part-way through any all-village weekend orgy in the village hall. Obviously as this is England, the subject of the weather is one of perennial fascination. Especially the way the drizzle runs down the backs of your legs and fills up your wellies whenever engaged in any meadow-based perversion, Such As Nine Men (And A Brace Of Dairymaids) Went To Mow, Bringing In The Strumpets, A-Fondling We Will Go, and so forth.

Then there is – typically at this time of year – the unexpected frost and how it can nip at the exposed buds and shoots, and the best form of precautions to avoid such mishaps, like covered the exposed areas of your postmistress with a bit of old sacking. Old Feebletrousers swears by (and sometimes at) a good mulching of your assistant librarian, but he is a bit old fashioned that way.

Of course, during the day of English Summer, anyone interested in outdoor perversions has to be aware of the dangers of sunburn on the exposed areas, especially those areas not used to exposure to the elements, such as Grand Uncle Stagnant’s under-vest area. However, the ladies of Little Frigging have found an ingenious solution to this difficulty by asking our local volunteer fireman Strom Thighhammer to give them a good hosing down if they feel they are getting overcome in the heat.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Common or Garden Perversions

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Of course, the most obvious difficulty with common or garden perversions is often that what is suitable for a common (or other area of open ground such as a park, wasteland, supermarket car park or sports pitch) is not really suitable for a garden, or vice-versa.

To take an example at random, the frequent use of trellising in garden-based perversions is not really suitable for common-based perversions as there is rarely a wall or other such structure to attach the trellising to. Therefore the use of trellising in common-based perversions is only really applicable if your cake shop manageress has exceptionally strong arms, or the donkey is prepared to stay still until it is time for the tea break.

Similarly, the use of the kite is not really recommended for garden-based perversions, unless you have a larger than average garden as your assistant librarian is likely to become severely entangled around next-door’s chimney. Although this may be quite exciting for your assistant librarian, especially if it necessitates her being rescued by your local fire service, as a perversion it can be somewhat frustrating for the one left holding the limp piece of string.

Therefore, I – for one – would humbly suggest that you take care in your choice of perversion, making sure it is really applicable for the situation you find yourself in. This is especially true when considering supermarket car park-based perversions as some of the spaces can be quite tight, especially if you are considering reversing your postmistress into without first making the correct turning signal.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The Full Blooming of Grand Uncle Stagnant

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Once the warmer drizzle signals to one and all that spring is indeed going to bother turning up this year, and the snow drops and daffodils begin to appear, we, in Little Frigging, know that it will not be long before the full blooming of Grand Uncle Stagnant.

Those that have witnessed Grand Uncle Stagnant in all his glory cannot easily dismiss the phenomenon from their minds, no matter how long they spend in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage, or how much of the landlord’s special they imbibe.

Of course, as with any still-upstanding gentleman of his advanced years, it is important that Grand Uncle Stagnant is well cared-for. Fortunately, we in Little Frigging have a brace of dairymaids well acquainted with the foibles of this particular man. In fact, Grand Uncle Stagnant makes a point of showing his foibles (and his point, for that matter) to every lady in the village, as well as most of the sheep and those forms of wildlife not well-practiced in running away.

Therefore as the March drizzle begins to give way to the (slightly-)warmer April drizzle, we in the village know that it is time to give the older denizens of the village such as Grand Uncle Stagnant, Old Feebletrousers and the Teeb Hags their annual protective coat of creosote. This will be in readiness for the deprecations of the summer months, when they will be disrobing and disporting themselves all over the English countryside in all their (now somewhat faded) glory.

So, if you are thinking of taking a stroll out in the wonderful English countryside in the coming months, just be careful you do not come across any of them; otherwise, you may live to regret it.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Library Assistants and their Research Projects

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Of course, on most occasions when you visit the Little Frigging library, the librarian, or her assistants, are usually more than happy to stamp your ticket. However, as I have previously mentioned the librarian and her assistants are also very keen on research and can often be found enjoying a mutually fingering session together amongst the dusty tomes in the research section of the library.

Consequently, during such times it is considered more than impolite to interrupt the librarians until they have reached a mutually-satisfying climax to their researches. Of course, as long as you keep a respect library-style silence, you are more than welcome to watch them as they go about their in-depth probing researches with their deft fingerings that have made assistant librarians such a regular feature, if not star players of any Inter-Village Orgy squad.

The silence of the library also means that the assistant librarians are also more than adept at giving each other full oral satisfaction by making full use of the tongue and the lips to satisfy each other without their intercourse disturbing any of the library’s patrons.

Therefore, I would urgently suggest that every citizen of this fair land gives their full support to their local library and always be both keen and willing to assist if any librarian asks you to assist with her researches.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

The Little Frigging Women’s Institute for Perversions

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Of course, the Little Frigging Women’s Institute for Perversions runs many successful courses and talks to keep the ladies of the village up to date with all the latest in perversions, deviations, fetishes, jam recipes and knitting patterns.

Only last week they had a – by all accounts – fascinating hands-on demonstration on the best way to disrobe a fireman with the full assistance of our own village volunteer fireman (and blacksmith) Strom Thighhammer. The ladies present at the lecture said they were all very grateful to Strom for the way he let them all have hands-on experience with his hose and admired him for the firmness of his standing as they did so.

Of course, disrobing the fireman is just the beginning, and the rest of the evening was taken up with a practical exploration of their various jam recipes and a discussion about which was the best flavour to lick off a recumbent fireman. The evening ended with the general consensus emerging that gooseberry jam is ideal for a fireman, while someone like Grand Uncle Stagnant could probably do with something of a stronger flavour, possibly raspberry. That is if you can prise him away from his dairymaids for long enough to apply the jam in the first place.

However, some of the women wondered if a plumber would be better with freshly baked scones, or maybe if he would be more suited to pancakes and a heavy syrup. Therefore, this talk and practical demonstration has been pencilled in for next week’s topic.

So, ladies, be there early to get a good seat at the front, and don’t forget to bring your own tin of golden syrup.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Sex Spatulas and the Canteen Manageress

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In most village hall weekend orgy situations, it is always best to be cautious when approaching a canteen manageress (Welsh or otherwise) with your sex spatulas at the ‘ready’ position, without first making sure she has her ladle ready, especially if you have an interest in sampling the contents of her tureen.

As we know, the canteen manageress is very experienced in the use of the spatulas. Sex spatulas when wielded by her or one of her canteen assistants, especially when emerging from the larder… quite possibly with her melons in her hands in readiness, are quite a stirring sight for anyone adept in the perverse arts and sciences.

Once you have your canteen manageress well in hand, it is then advisable, especially in the warmer weather, to first liberally* flour your work surface to prevent either of you sticking to the surface, especially when some firm kneading is required.

By then your meringue peaks shod be firm enough and her baps warm and ready for your filling.

In many ways, the canteen manageress is very similar to the cake shop manageress; both are women of a certain natural authority and experience and are best left to gentleman of a similar level of experience. This is especially true, as a callow youth who lacks experience, but tries to make up for that with an excess of youthful vigour could find that it only results in severe damage to the integrity of his hot sausage roll.

*or conservatively, if you prefer. For those of a more left-wing persuasion, by the time you have filled in the Diversity Outreach Quota form, taken the Ethical Awareness Test and made sure that you are complying with all the Equality in the Village Hall Orgy directives, your canteen manageress will have given up and gone home with a plumber instead.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Twitching in the Undergrowth

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Now that spring has finally decided to turn up there is no better time for those that like to go twitching in the woods, bushes and hedgerows, often stopping off for a quick meadow pipit on the way. It is also a fine time for those that would like to try to cock Robin, and for anyone wanting to see a fine pair of tits emerging from their natural habitat.

There is nothing quite like taking yourself in hand in the great British countryside and seeing what the birds are up to, especially in the mating season. There is not much more that can cause quite a stirring in your undergrowth as seeing a fine pair of assistant librarians as they remove their winter plumage for a quick dip in the duck pond before giving each other a vigorous rub down and a warm hand to buff up those moist places on each other’s bodies.

In fact, the ladies of Little Frigging have organised their own club of twitchers who set off early every morning, just before dawn, so they can catch the first glimpse of our local blacksmith and volunteer fireman Strom Thighhammer’s cock as it rises up to greet the dawn. A sight that - many of them agree - is something well worth seeing first thing in the morning.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Maureen’s Meanderings

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Of course, it goes without saying that the various privatisations of the Thatcher years did turn out – mostly – to be a success, especially the privatisation of Dial a Strumpet. However, just the other day my own dear wife Maureen was yearning for the days of British Rail and its over-manning. Always partial to a bit of over-manning whenever possible, Maureen has fond memories of some rail trips when sometimes as many as half a dozen staff members would ease themselves into her compartment in order to make sure she got the most satisfaction possible from her ride.

She often joked at the time that by the time she had made full use of those British Rail staff members they were as limp and as exhausted as the traditional British Rail sandwich of fond memory.

These days, however, it is all about efficiency, with Maureen on her privatised rail trips having to satisfy herself with only one, or maybe two, staff members for her whole trip and for a woman of her appetites this is nowhere near enough. Even the mighty Little Frigging blacksmith, and amateur fireman, Strom Thighhammer has had to concede that Maureen has left him limp and defeated a few times… well, after quite a few times.

So, maybe, there is something to be said for over-manning, after all it is not just Maureen who says so, several of the Little Frigging ladies at their coffee mornings have had to offer each other a hand of comfort or some oral support because of the various shortcomings – as the ladies would have it – of the village menfolk. Many of those ladies have, many times, expressed a fond desire for some over-manning too, should a situation demand it, insisting, for example, that any plumber or similar tradesman visiting their homes brings with him at least one apprentice or assistant in order to bring full satisfaction to the customer they are servicing.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Poling a Punt

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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.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Stirrings in the Bush

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Now as the spring approaches the thoughts of the denizens of Little Frigging quite naturally turn to nature and - of course – how to involve it in as many of the perverse arts and sciences as possible, hopefully involving a well-lubricated postmistress and a couple of generous handfuls of dairymaids.

Of course, for those of a more cautious nature the return of spring means that any stirrings they feel now beginning will take place in the undergrowth, out of the way of prying eyes. However, for those of a more robust cast of mind, the longer spring evenings mean they can get out and about and give those same prying eyes something worth looking at, and quite possibly something worth taking notes on.

Of course, as this is England, and as it is spring, this means that the usual daily drizzle will have a touch of the cold of winter about it. Therefore, I – for one – would suggest that it is a good idea to take one’s fetish mittens and a flask of hot tea with one when one is about to attempt to become one with one (at least) other during one’s peregrinations out in the heart of nature’s wonders.

Speaking of wonders of nature, spring is a particular favourite time of the year for our local blacksmith and volunteer fireman Strom Thighhammer, who as soon as he notices the first stirrings in the bush is eager for the ladies of the village to take him in hand so they can feel the sap rising together.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Approaching a Recumbent Postmistress

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It almost goes without saying that it is best to approach a recumbent postmistress from the east, especially if it is close to the time of sunset where the glare from the setting sun could hinder her attempts to get the devices fully lubricated in time for the mid-orgy break for tea and fresh cream cakes. However, should she wish to partake of your cream, say on her baps or her buns, it seems quite likely that she will have already warmed them for your full delectation.

Now, assuming that you already have your orgy racquet at the serve position as you approach your post mistress and/or assistant librarian, then there should be not a great deal of concern about just who is to wield the sex spatulas to return that opening service of yours. Of course, this does presume that the wicket keeper is wearing the fetish mittens in readiness and that any gentlemen of a clerical persuasion have already been firmly taken in hand by any amateur campanologist in the near vicinity. After all, one would not like any reoccurrence of that incident with the priest, the altar candle and the goat, which, it is said, was what caused Henry VIII’s final break with Catholicism, as well as his lifetime aversion to goat cheese.

Anyway, providing your postmistress is well-seasoned with the salad dressing of her choice and you have some fresh pork for her delectation, possibly - by way of introduction – already placing it between her baps, then I am sure you do not need me to tell you what happens next… do you?

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

On Having Your Tool Always In Hand

 

 

As we all know Every hoe ha dem stick a bush*. So if you’ve come across any bush that didn’t seem willing and able to accommodate your stick you know how disappointing and disconcerting it can be. Therefore, whilst you are out on your daily, or weekly, perversion hike, then it is probably always a good idea to carry a spare stick, rod or tool in your sexual perversions rucksack, or perversion utility belt.

Also should you find yourself without the necessary stiff tool to hand for when you wish to clear the undergrowth away from the verge where you would like to plant your seedlings in the immediate future, then again a good sex hoe is always a useful accessory to have to hand.

 

*The Gladiators – Stick A Bush**

**"Every hoe ha dem stick a bush."  The meaning of all that is "to each his own" It literally translates that for every size hoe there is a stick that size in the bush (or forest) for it.  In Jamaica they use tools similar to a garden hoe. They use it to make a yam hill - we use it to make path.  There are different sizes for different chores.  So it can also mean that there is someone out there for everyone.

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Cheese Counter

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Despite the fact that the very ladles of our small rotund canteen manageress are utilised by her to prise Old Feebletrousers out of his socks in readiness for his post-winter ablutions, we can still rest assured that the explanatory pie charts she prepares afterwards still have a very toothsome pastry upon themselves, even if I say so myself.

But, having said that - and I did check. I do have it written down here in my notebook - then I think we can now safely proceed to the cheese counter. Once there we can begin the full disrobing of the librarian from her ceremonial cardigan and then I can go about giving her the official pearl necklace that denotes her status as custodian of the outpourings of all my copious ejaculations from this organ.

Now, there are some in this fair land of ours who would pooh-pooh the use of a cheese counter in a village orgy setting. However, I would hope those of you (both) who gather here to peruse my ejaculations would not consider yourselves amongst such mentally and perversosity-challenged personages.

No, I am sure – and I can tell be they way you have adopted the stance of a trainee supermarket manager about to be immersed in warm custard – that you are (both) very familiar with the uses of the various great cheese of this noble land, and possibly even some from foreign parts*. Here I am particularly thinking of such deviations as the Stilton over-broccoling, the leek and cheddar wheelbarrow and – of course – the smoked Bavarian lederhosen parradiddle.

All those does, of course, imply that you have someone of long experience in change of the cheese counter. We here in Little Frigging count ourselves very fortunate in having our Welsh, former canteen manageress, Phyllis Mann-Sausage, who is well-experienced in judging portion sizes in just a glance, so that one’s dalliance partner(s) are not subsequently disappointed in one’s offering when the time comes for them to receive it.

 

*Especially, if your dalliance partner(s) themselves are from (or have) foreign parts themselves.

Friday, March 4, 2011

On The Normality Of The Perverted Arts

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It is often suggested, usually by those who dislike the idea that somewhere someone might be happily going about minding their own business, that the perverted arts are - in some vague and unspecified way - unusual or out of the ordinary. This is – of course – utter piffle.

Everyone who has ever applied three-fruit marmalade to the underside of a clerical assistant will robustly pooh-pooh such a notion as soon as the censorious busybodies utter it.

From the highest government official in the land right down to the lowest estate agent, politician or other such vermin, the perverted arts are absolutely normal, ordinary and natural. For what could be more natural than sellotaping a well-oiled librarian to a dinning room table for rude and naughty purposes?

In reality, it is only those joyless ignoramuses who get what limited pleasure they can from disapproving of what everybody else enjoys who seem to take that pleasure in regarding what we ordinary folk see as a quiet harmless perversion -like immersing a stockbroker in lukewarm custard - as somehow not quite normal.

However, it is this attitude of theirs – of course – which is closer to what could more accurately be described as a perversion, in the sense that it is a distortion of what is natural, healthy and quite good fun into something that becomes somehow tarnished by this mean and vengeful act of disapproval.

Anyway, when the glorious day comes, these will be the first up against the wall… stripped naked and then liberally coated with three-fruit marmalade and awaiting the postmistresses to be released upon them….

That’ll learn ‘em.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Emergency Servicing

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Once upon a time there was a postmistress and an amateur fireman, and the – after a little while – there was twice upon a time, at least until the leg fell off the picnic table and they were both suddenly tumbled to the ground, severely damaging – for it was he – Strom Thighhammer’s chopper. Luckily, only just yards away at the time, the Little Frigging village doctor, Minnie Strayshuns, and her nurse, Pam Purring, were out for the evening, both intent on discovering what they could find of interest in the hedgerows and discovering what their medically-dexterous fingers could inspire when delved into each other’s bushes along the way.

Immediately, the two medically-trained ladies had the disorientated Strom flat on his back and proceeded to give his chopper the kiss of life. However, when the postmistress, recovering from her own tumble, pointed out that this was not the usual area to which the kiss of life was administered, she was sternly warned to leave the professionals to get on with what they were doing.

Soon, the two medical ladies had Strom firmly upstanding once more, each then proceeding to give him a full and in-depth examination to make sure that the integrity of his chopper had not been compromised by his fall from the picnic table. When both the doctor and the nurse were fully contented that their ministrations to Strom’s chopper had proved efficacious to their satisfaction, then, and only then, did they allow the postmistress to carry on with the interrupted proceedings.

Overcome with gratitude Strom thanked the medical practitioners, who both promised that they would call on Strom the following morning at his blacksmith’s cottage to make sure that he was – indeed – restored to full health and vigour, or whether he would need the medical staff to take him in hand until he was upstanding again.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Village Hall Orgies and History

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Now, it is not often appreciated by those new to the village hall orgy that it has a long and distinguished history, going far back beyond even the days – and most of the nights – of the Viking invasions. In fact, as most scholars of the period now agree the real reason King Alfred burnt the cakes was that he was demonstrating other uses for his candle clock to a brace of fascinated dairymaids. Consequently, he forgot all about the cook who had left her buns warming for his delectation until her screams of distress roused him form his preoccupation with the dairymaids.

Certain other scholars also credit Alfred with the invention of the postmistress, but this is disputed by many other - often more sober - scholars. However, it is true that he did develop many of the swamp-based perversions which were later, through the swamp-based natural habitat of the wild lawyer to develop the English legal system. Of course, this also explains why lawyers still like to don elaborate fetish gear such as wigs and gowns when going about their rather peculiar breeding rituals.

All in all then, it can be of great benefit to any scholar of the perverted arts and sciences to take a greater interest in the history of this fascinating subject, especially some of the more… er… educational woodcuts and tapestries of the period, especially the one featuring the brace of dairymaids, the woodcutter and the scrivener.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

The UK Perversions Ministry

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Although it was not said at the time, it is now felt that the UK Perversions ministry as run by the recent Labour government, under John Prescott, was a complete failure. It now seems that the only perversion the department, under Prescott’s control, came up with involved a flat cap, a whippet and a waterbed.

It has also been revealed that the ministry wasted several million pounds trying to develop a croquet-based open-air perversion involving croquet hoops, a brace of MP’s research assistants and a mallet, but it came to nothing when other European partners pulled out.

The French, instead, decided to concentrate on a boules-related perversion, perhaps using some new high-technology onion strings and the Germans preferred to concentrate their efforts on some deviation involving a long thick sausage, a dental hygienist and a plate of sauerkraut.

However, the UK is still involved in the European large hard-on collider project, but it is felt that this will only be really of interest to those gentlemen interested in stage musicals, soft furnishings and the Eurovision song contest.

Unfortunately, it now seems that the UK is been overtaken in high-technology perversions like intimate massage devices with built in MP3 players, 3G and satnav, being developed in the Far-East. This will enable both (or more) partners involved in a perverted dalliance to have a tune to get them in the mood, and have the ability to update immediately their orgasmic status on Facebook and/or Twitter with the time and position of their dalliance, with optional photos, to within a 3-metre radius.

The new government, however, has immediately decided to act, and has almost come to some decision about whether or not they may – in the fullness of time – have an inquiry into whether or not they should consider whether or not they are going to consider the long term feasibility of continuing with the department… or not. Closing the department should – in this time of government cuts – save many millions of pounds, but since most of the department’s budget under Labour was spent keeping Prescott in the pies he was accustomed to, then the cost savings these days would not be anywhere near as great.