Monday, October 31, 2011

When Lawyers Mature

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I suppose it is always a slightly bitter-sweet time once the year's crop of lawyers has gone to market, especially for those runts of the litter who fail to find a law firm willing to take them on, who end up being sold into politics. It is not a life that you would normally wish upon anyone, not even lawyers... well... maybe not....

However, once the tad-lawyers have had a taste of litigation it is almost impossible to wean them off their desire for laws, if not to work and live amongst the laws, then to do their best to make them unworkable.

For such is the instinctive need of lawyers to feather their nests with as many laws as possible, they also seem to have some instinct for making the laws themselves as impenetrable to outsiders as they possibly can. Of course, there is an evolutionary reason for this, the more complex and impenetrable the law, the more the lawyer can charge for seeming to understand it, and - like the peacock's tail – the lawyer that charges the highest fee is the one more liable to get a mate*.

 

*As - quite often – no-one else would want the stigma of being seen mating with a lawyer, the only way a lawyer could get a mate was to pay for it. However, since the startling discovery of female lawyers by naturalists this has – to some extent – changed.

Friday, October 28, 2011

On the Essence of Manliness

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Of course, the sight of a pulchritudinous post-mistress dressed in a rubber trainee-supermarket manager fetish outfit is enough to cause a stirring in the trouser area of any red-blooded Englishman. Consequently making him desperately search out a nearby-unopened jam jar so that he can demonstrate his supreme manliness to her by getting its lid off in front of her very eyes.

It does go without saying that any woman is bound to be impressed by a man who can get the lid off a jar without causing himself too much of an injury and without – most importantly – denting his ardour.

However, there are some women who find themselves overcome by the kind of man able to reach some of the higher shelves, especially in a supermarket, where the staff choose to put everything you actually want just out of your reach, just – it seems – for the hell of it.

In the hothouse atmosphere of the village hall weekly orgy and homemade cake sale, however, there is little a man has to do to show any woman there his interest in a dalliance with her, beyond complimenting her on the moistness of her cupcakes and tweaking the cherries on the tips of her Belgian buns. Although, if he is dressed in his full leather auditing gear, even that may not be entirely necessarily to get her to put her knitting aside for a time (or two).

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Getting Steamy in the Cake Shop

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Approaching a cake shop manageress should only be attempted in clear visibility, and so caution should be utilised if approaching one either on a misty morning, or if the kitchen area of the cake shop is steamy. However, the default setting of the cake shop manageress is always steamy, so being overcautious in such a situation can only result in a dent in your ardour or structural damage to your cream horn.

Most cake shop manageresses - as you no doubt will know – prefer to work naked except for an apron and oven gloves, which often helps when she kneels to see if your dough has risen, or if it needs a bit more kneading. Some gentlemen in such cases prefer the added frisson that keeping the oven gloves on brings to such occasions; others tend to kind such erotic charges somewhat over-stimulating and prefer just a light dusting of self-raising flour.

In any eventuality, it is considered only polite for any gentleman visiting the cake shop to insist that the cake shop manageress or her counter assistant sample his hot sausage roll and that if requested he leave a generous dollop of his fresh cream in all their apple turnovers.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Ladies Lingering in their Lingerie

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It has been brought to the attention of the Village Hall Orgy Steering Committee that there are far too many ladies lingering in their lingerie in the vestibule of the village hall on orgy nights. This is especially awkward when the men from Technical Support have to attempt to manoeuvre past these ladies without getting any of their protuberances intertwined in the corridors. It is especially difficult when trying to manoeuvre pogo sticks and barge poles into the main hall in readiness for the Ladies' Excuse-Me in the second-half of the village hall orgy.

Hanging around – except by those with an interest in bondage - is not to be encouraged by anyone involved in the village hall orgies, especially when it may result in excess spillage of cream from a gentleman's cream horn when attempting to ease himself through a crush of scantily-clad ladies, all asking for a taste of his cream or a lick of his horn.

Furthermore, our volunteer fireman Strom Thighhammer has also pointed out that if a fire broke out in the hall, with so many under-dressed ladies in the corridors, he would find it very difficult to utilize the full length of his hose without running the risk of it being trampled by a sudden rush of over-excited ladies.

Therefore, the Village Hall Orgy Steering Committee request that all lingerie-clad ladies try to keep the corridors clear in future.

Thank you for your co-operation.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Strom Thighhammer and the Large Hard-On Collider

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Unfortunately, for the last fortnight or so, the ladies of Little Frigging have all been rather downcast, no matter what I and the rest of the proudly-upstanding gentlemen of the village have done to buck their ideas up.

It seems that the ladies are more than a little put out that our very own village blacksmith and volunteer fireman, Strom Thighhammer has been co-opted by the UK's scientific establishment to be this country's representative at the Large Hard-On Collider on the Swiss/German border.

The scientists felt that this country needed a man of Strom's impressive standing in order to compete with the other countries involved in the vita research at the well-known Porn facility, where the Hard-On Collider is situated.

This vital scientific work has been undertaken in an attempt to understand the true nature of the sex particle, especially the - currently theoretical - Friggs (or 'bouncy bosom') particle that is believed to be responsible for the strong sexual attraction force.

As you are probably aware, the work is carried out in a long circular tunnel underneath the facility. There, dairymaids and cake shop assistants from every country in Europe are made to circle around in this tunnel, with the scientists all eagerly waiting for them to collide with the gentlemen of very good standing who wait in various parts of he tunnel manfully manipulating themselves in order to emit the sexual attractor particles that will pull the ladies towards them.

Once the attractive force between the dairymaids (say) and the gentleman of impressive standing has resulted in a collusion of the sexual organs of the two (or in some situations more than two) participants the scientists at the facility then spend several days minutely examining the pictorial evidence of the collision. The scientists claim they do this in an attempt to locate, identify and isolate the elusive sex particles responsible for the attractive forces that resulted in the collision.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

On the Insertion of a Surreptitious Weasel

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There has been much debate of late, especially in the snug of The Pervert's Appendage about the best way to instigate the insertion of a surreptitious weasel into the scrum during a deadlocked Inter-Village Orgy League match. Obviously, some form of finesse is necessary in order to introduce the weasel without giving away a free fondle, especially if your goalkeeper has left her box wide open.

Of course, the sudden insertion of a surreptitious weasel into the proceedings was first tried – with great success – during one of the more tedious political debates* in the House of Lords just prior to WWI, when the first Sea Lord had his promulgation perverted by the introduction of the surreptitious weasel by the opposing party.

However, the use of the surreptitious weasel has been a long tradition in the long – and usually quite firm – history of the inter-Village Orgy match. However, with the International form of the Inter-Village Orgy, there was some initial reluctance by some foreign countries to allow the use of the weasel, with Germany being the obvious example.

However, once the German's were allowed the use of sauerkraut and sausages during a free fondle (providing no substitution had taken place), the use of the surreptitious weasel became widely accepted in the game, especially when the goal-botherer was under pressure from the opposition inside-outside wing forward backs at silly mid-on.

 

*Yes, I'm afraid it is true, it is indeed possible to have some political debates that are even more tedious than the others, even though this does seem to conflict with Einstein's General Theory of Tedium, which states that the universe is always an inherently interesting place, especially when you have mislaid your car keys.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Out and Ready to be Held

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Nestled deep in the picturesque valley at the heart of the county of Upper Thyghspreader, Little Frigging in the Wold is just another quiet English rural village. It is a place where the denizens take a quiet pride in the good standing of their local Inter-Village Orgy team, all pulling together to support it in the Inter-Village orgy League and cup as well as its attempts to increase the standing of English village orgy teams in the many European Competitions.


Not only that, everyone in the village always do their best to attend the events in the village hall that do so much to make the residents of such places come together as often as possible in the many village orgies arranged there, or even getting themselves out on the village green for open-air all-village orgies should the weather be suitable.


Furthermore, the new University of Little Frigging (formerly the cow sheds at Trouser-Quandary farm) is regarded as the leading institution in the UK for the study of theoretical and practical orgiastics as well as the study of the perverted arts and sciences, especially the use of the pork pie in an erotic context. All under the expert guidance of the narrator of this splendid tome, Norbert Trouser-Quandary, Master of the Perverted Arts and Sciences and Professor of Theoretical and Applied Orgiastics at the University of Little Frigging in the Wold, who is also a farmer specialising in the husbandry of free-range hairstylists and the breeding for the market of farm-assured lawyers.


For those interested in the use of cream cakes in a village orgy, the use of the village volunteer fireman's chopper, how to butter an assistant librarian, the secret rites of folk singers, the correct way to fondle a post mistress in a formal village orgy setting and much, much, more, this book is the ideal introduction to modern English rural life.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Ready at the Crease

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Of course, when in the presence of a brace of dairymaids in a state of near undress you will not – I'm sure – be too concerned about the integrity of your Brussels sprouts, providing you, of course, remember that they should be bowled underarm if the village orgy is taking place indoors.

This, of course, assumes that you have arranged the fielders into the necessary positions and that the dairymaid who is batting has her dildo ready at the crease as you begin your run-up.

Experts are often in conflict about whether or not the Brussels sprouts should be cooked before the innings begins or whether the raw sprout is much better, if only for its aerodynamic properties. It will be up to the umpires to agree amongst themselves on the suitability of the sprouts – whether cooked or raw – and whether they can stand up to the deprecations of the full innings without losing their integrity.

There are those gentlemen bowlers who like to give their sprouts a coating of oil, or even a light vinaigrette dressing before they come out to bowl at the start of the village orgy innings, others claim that it makes their sprouts difficult to get a good grip on the sprouts, and that such an eventuality gives undue advantage to the dairymaids, who – in most cases – prefer to maintain a firm grip, as we all know only too well. Especially those of us who have attempted to get to the tea break sandwiches without first disengaging the grip of the dairymaid, something that can often bring a tear to the eye of the most upstanding of gentlemen.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

An Organ of Record

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In the current climate with the internet taking over more and more of the news function formerly the province of newspapers, it seems that some local papers are suffering loss of sales, and some are even closing.

However, The Little Frigging in the Wold Gleaner, under the erstwhile editorship of Foaming Lickspittle, has gone from strength to strength. It is his foresight that led to the acquisition of the services of former Inter-Village Orgy star, Sherry Ventilator as the Gleaner’s sports correspondent. This has made the Gleaner the newspaper of choice for anyone in the county of Upper Thyghspreader who takes an interest in the Inter-village Orgy cup and league, as well as magnificent coverage of other rural sports such as Estate Agent Immolation, Wild Accordion hunting, folk singer disambiguation and Ladyfingers-in-the-Bush.

Foaming Lickspittle has also employed Grand Uncle Stagnant to produce, what has now become a must-read, rural life column. What's more, this award-winning column – after some serious negotiations in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage which resulted in all the negotiators unconscious in a heap under the pool table after an exhausting and exhaustive evening of negotiation – has been acquired as an occasional Guest Post at this very blog. The first of which appears sometime in the very near future.

Furthermore The Little Frigging in the Wold Gleaner now sports an essential Perversion of the Week Column written by my very own wife Maureen Trouser-Quandary in which she offers all-comers a chance to peruse her tips.

Not only that each week on page three of The Little Frigging in the Wold Gleaner, there is a full-colour photo-spread featuring the ladies from the cake shop all proudly displaying their baps of the week.

So, make sure that you never miss a copy of this essential read whenever you are in the vicinity of Little Frigging in the Wold.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Fully-Equipped Village Orgy Essentials

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Fairly obviously it is not always easy to get all the equipment one would like into the average sized village hall, especially when - for example – Grand Uncle Stagnant and his brace of dairymaids fancy a quick turn on his combine harvester.

However, in some cases the village hall can be made compatible with many other of the perverted arts by – for example – using a hosepipe and a trampoline, first making sure that the vol-au-vents are protected from any splashing, of course. For those interested in the more, shall we say 'well-moistened' perversions, including those who like to don their waders for a bit of (very) coarse fishing, will of course need more room to get their rods out than is usually the case in the more modest village hall and will benefit from being ensconced on the river bank and/or edge of the duck pond, depending on whether any of the ladies wish to don their fishnets in readiness for getting their hands on the catch of the day.

Obviously, no village orgy would be complete without full and frank access to a pork pie for all attendees. Although, there may – by force of circumstance – have to be a queue for the piccalilli, especially for those wanting to use it for more intimate purposes, perhaps in order to add a bit of a tang to the vestments of the village church choir.

For those who take an interest in chastisement, of course, the village hall orgy committee should always make sure there is enough room - for those who wish to - to swing a cat and/or give a badger a turn on the see-saw.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Erogenous Zone

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There is nothing left to say. I will leave the half-open jar of badger spleen oil here on the shelf just above the dildo rail and place my brace of sex spatulas on the shelf in readiness. If I should need the assistant librarian, she is oiled and ready and the well-polished restraining straps shine in the light from the street lamp.

It is a tense moment before any episode of the UK's new hit TV series, MasterPervert, especially when it gets to these the final rounds. However, I do feel confident that my chosen perversion: Crouching traffic warden, Bewildered moor-hen will be strong enough, even against the stiff competition*

Anyway,there is little anyone can do in these final moments except try to clear the mind and to enter that vital zone.

The mind must be clear and the body loose and supple as you try to get into the right frame of mind to enter the erogenous zone. The erogenous zone is the place where a pervert of good standing (and my standing now is very good indeed) will try to become one with his and/or her perversion of choice. One should always be ready to enter the zone, preparedness – known to the cognoscenti as 'foreplay' - is essential to prepare both yourself and the erogenous zone for your entry into it.

Too soon and the zone is not ready to receive you, too late and the moment will be lost, she may already have entered the tricky point in her knitting where any attempt to enter her erogenous zone will result in her dropping a stitch, or even force her to cast off in the middle of a row and that way only disaster lies.

 

*And I did check in the Green Room earlier and the competition - each one of them – were all stiff in the usual places, except the local politician of course. However, she was getting her research assistant to polish her mandate, so I presume by now the necessary stiffness has been achieved.

Monday, October 10, 2011

A Large Tub of Greek-Style Yoghurt

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Having said that, albeit rather quietly and without writing it down, I feel we are ready to move on. Consequently, someone like your very self who has a keener than average interest in some of the wilder, less-frequently visited, shores of the sexual landscape will no doubt already possess your own bespoke brace of sex spatulas.

It is even possible that you will perhaps have already dabbled in a bit of fully-consensual auditing, or other accountancy practices, with other freely-consenting partners. You could even be a self-confessed quantity surveyor or tarried awhile with a structural engineer or two during your younger, wilder, days when it seemed the custard would last forever.

Nowadays, though, maybe you - like I – no longer wish to engage in practices that would make a tabloid journalist blush, or a politician come out in a cold sweat, nowadays preferring the company of a mere handful of sexual partners and a large tub of Greek-style yoghurt for a nice informal get-together occasionally, perhaps only every other day or two.

If so, then maybe you ought to consider getting out your thermal fetish gear and your fur-lined sex mittens because it seems that here in the UK we have had our annual one day of summer and soon it will be winter again.

Friday, October 7, 2011

The Volunteer Fireman and his Chopper

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Little Frigging village blacksmith Strom Thighhammer is - in his other role as village volunteer fireman - of course always eager to help out any of the ladies of Little Frigging who are not quite feeling themselves, especially if they need him to use his hose to cool their over-heating ardour.

Not only that, should a lady find herself in severe distress Strom is always more than ready to get his chopper out in order to come to their assistance, no matter how urgent, or dire, their peril, in order to help them overcome their tribulations.

Quite often, Strom often finds the ladies on the verge of being overcome and with their clothing in disarray. Many times, he has said, he has come - with his chopper already in his hand - to the assistance of a lady in dire need of his services to find her lying fully disrobed and eager for his fireman's lift to take her beyond the crisis point of her current state of not knowing if she is coming or going.

However, such is the expertise with which Strom wields his chopper or manipulates his hose, the lady herself soon finds that he takes command of the situation and immediately sets about bringing her to a safe and – more often than not – satisfactory conclusion, no matter how desperate her state of distress (or undress). Not only that, many of the village ladies have made the point that Strom always seems to know just when to come and not – as many men have in the past – leave the ladies still unsatisfied and totally unsatiated through their lack of expertise with the chopper or hose.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Whither the Lemon Meringue?

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If not the donkey, then whither the lemon meringue?”* I'm sure the very same thought must have crossed all our minds at some point as we all inspect our collection of fetish gear and check we have enough fresh batteries to last an entire weekend orgy (with buffet) in the village hall.

Sometimes, it all looks pristine and ready for action, much like Strom Thighhammer striding manfully into the village hall with his chopper already firmly in his grasp. Other times, though, everything looks a little like Old Feebletrousers after a long night's heavy philosophising in the snug of The Pervert's Appendage, a little worse for wear, frayed around the edges, strangely damp and smelling of something we know not the wot of.

Maybe your latex quantity surveyor outfit has seen better days, lost its lustre, or your once-mighty Donkey Trembler 78000B intimate massage device now splutters along like an unserviced East European people's car from before the fall of the Berlin Wall, or you donkey jacket has more peep holes than when you first wore it, or your bargepole looks more akin to a toothpick.

However, do not be downcast, for even the thought of spending several intimate hours with say, the ladies from the cake shop, our very own Postmistress, Labia Entanglements, or a brace of dairymaids should be enough to have you standing proud once more. As long as you are there at the village hall in time for the orgy and throw yourself into it with all the abandon of a vicar at at Parish Bring and Buy Fetish Gear jumble sale then I'm sure your coming will be appreciated by everyone there.

 

*Also Spake the Lemon Meringue - Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

On the Magnetism of Dairymaids

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Obviously, realigning your dairymaids to face true North is not always the most obvious course of action when you find yourself without the firmness of purpose those dairymaids have come to expect during the weekly Freestyle Orgy and Bingo Night in the village hall on Wednesday Evenings.

Obviously, never having suffered such a problem with my own predicament myself, all I can offer you is this advice proffered by a... er... friend. It did work for me... er... him, and so, consequently, I hope that any other gentleman of formerly good standing finds these wise words more than useful and has him soon back to standing proud again, much to the admiration of the ladies present at his own local weekly village hall orgy and bingo night.

It has often been remarked on by scholars of the perverse arts and sciences as to just why dairymaids are so susceptible to magnetic influences. Many have put this down to the fact that in days of yore a dairymaid was seldom seen with a metal bucket, even when she was seen wearing little, or – more often - nothing else.

Others have speculated upon the nature of the dairymaid's iron grip and how she can use this to bring any gentleman acquaintance to the peak of his ability with a few deft and practised strokes. Furthermore, she will - with a few more dexterous movements of her wrist – be able to get the gentleman to point in the direction that will bring herself the most satisfaction and this is, of course, invariably true north.

So, if any gentleman reading this finds that he has some problem with standing proud whenever the occasion demands it, then I would respectfully suggest he immediately puts himself in the hands of his nearest local dairymaid, and he will soon find himself once more a gentleman of good standing.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Grand Uncle Stagnant and his Ablutions

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Obviously, when England is basking in its summer day and the drizzle feels warm upon the skin it is not unusual to see rather more of Grand Uncle Stagnant than normally would be the case. Those of a more robust constitution and disposition can often see him on that one hot day of the English summer, disrobing himself right down to his wellies on the banks of the river Teeb, in order for the dairymaids to give him a thorough scrubbing. Those of you familiar with the Little Frigging dairymaids – and there can't be that many left who they have not been very familiar with – know what a fine pair of scrubbers they can be.

Obviously a perverteer of Grand Uncle Stagnant's long – and surprisingly firm (for his great age) – experience does need plenty of attention from the scrubbers, especially in the usually tricky to reach under-vest area, which rarely sees daylight even during some of the more intense all-village outdoor orgies on the village green at the height of the summer.

Consequently, as a matter of Health and safety for the rest of us undergoing an orgiastic experience in the near vicinity of Grand Uncle Stagnant, and his aforesaid vest, it becomes a matter of some necessity that his ablutions are undertaken beforehand. Therefore in order to show the gratitude of the rest of the orgy-goers, Strom Thighhammer, our village volunteer fireman, has taken it upon himself to insist that once the scrubbers have completed Grand Uncle Stagnant's ablutions, Strom should – in turn – give both dairymaids a very thorough seeing-to with his hose.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Measuring up to Strom Thighhammer

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Many, if not all, of the ladies of Little Frigging will – of course – be more than willing to attest what a fine upstanding man our local blacksmith and volunteer fireman, Strom Thighhammer is and are all more than keen to offer him a helping hand whenever he needs one, or two. Obviously a man of Strom’s calibre is often more than a single woman can comfortably grasp, unless she has the hands of a concert pianist able to stretch beyond an octave or so. Even then, Strom can be more than they can manage alone.

However, the Little Frigging Ladies sewing and knitting circle have often had Strom come to their assistance when they need a measuring rule to make sure of the size of whatever garments they may be constructing, as each lady in the village knows just how big Strom’s accomplishment is, down to the nearest millimetre and are all able to use it for all manner of purposes, even if it is just something to hang their coats on.