Monday, March 26, 2012

Not Country Matters


Now, it would be wrong for any admirer of my organ to come to the conclusion that we village-dwellers spend all our time indulging in the erotic arts and sciences at both a practical and theoretical level, leaving no time for other pursuits.

Apart from the twice-weekly village orgies and the occasional dalliances in haylofts, various hedgerows, the village library, the cake shop, hayricks, the post office, village hall and the occasional foray into the duck pond, we don’t all spend our time assisting each other out of our respective underwear in order to indulging in what the poet so-rightly called ‘country matters’.

No, sometimes a denizen of Little Frigging can go for as long as half-a-hour without engaging in a dalliance with another villager, which I’m sure you who are unfortunate enough to be ensconced in an urban environment will see as about average for such a well-dispersed rural area as in which Little Frigging resides.

I’m sure that if it were not such, say, a long tractor ride between the academic lounge at Little Frigging University and the milking sheds we would all spend much longer in the eager welcoming hands of the dairymaids than we have the time for at present.

No, we al have a wide variety of interests, hobbies and diversions that keep us busy and our minds far from the erotic possibilities of, say, the slide rule or the woolly balaclava for up to several minutes a day. So there is no need for anyone to worry that we may become obsessive in our pursuit of the delights of the rude and naughty.

Therefore, I would like to thank you for your concern, and now if you wouldn’t mind removing your clothes and joining the post mistress in the bath full of lukewarm custard, I will be with you in a moment.

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