Tuesday, May 18, 2004
So, to anyone out there still checking in, oops, sorry, guess it's been a while... Life has a funny habit of overtaking at the moment. Well, okay, not "life" exactly, but certainly heavy work crap that keeps wiping the smile right off me boat race. Yikes, that's a mixed metaphor if ever there was one, and one that has left me feeling distinctly queasy...
But, natch, I digress. And what I wanted to talk about was something that not only had me smiling, but had the entire clientele in the garden of the Eight Bells wondering what I was on and whether or not they could get some too, so long and lusty was my laughter.
You see, there we were, me, my best friend from when I was nine, and my cousin from round the corner - oh and a nasty son of a hangover - and somehow, lord only knows how, the conversation turned to porn. Well, actually, I do know how...
You see, I was in the post office that morning, idly waiting twelve hours to get served while a tiny blind old lady tried to explain that modern technological advances in banking were of no help to her whatsoever and asking if they really wanted her to resort to keeping her pension in used fivers under the mattress. Seemed a fair enough question, so I hummed a merry tune, read all the leaflets and birthday cards, and - oh! - before I knew it, found myself staring at the top shelf.
Now come on! I live in Old Town! I'm dead posh, me! So, imagine my shock to find a top shelf running right round the whole newsagents, stuffed full of porn! Magazines, videos, the lot. I cocked my head to one side and started reading the titles - all absolutely fascinating as a source for an A Level English Language research project! "Porno Housewives" was my favourite (linguistically speaking), though "In the office" made me laugh and hope none of the boys I share mine with have such fantasies about our swivel chairs!
And that was it - my little anecdote over a half of shandy and a packet of crisps in the pub on a sunny Saturday lunchtime. End of. Or maybe not, cos in weighs my best friend from when I was nine with the tale of her porn-loving neighbour who regularly offers her husband choice items of televisual entertainment.
"Oh yes", she mutters, "you should see some of that stuff...."
I titter, vaguely imagining "Porno Housewives II", and then in she weighs again.
"Oh yeah, he's really into dwarves..."
And that is me out for the count, in paroxysms of absolutely uncontrollable laughter as I try my very very best to imagine what on earth "Porno Dwarves" is like!! I nearly choke to death trying to ask whether that is dwarf on dwarf action, or dwarf on non-dwarf, and all the time I am desperately well aware that I should not be calling anyone a dwarf in this day and age. But I can't stop, and thinking about Snow White only makes it far far worse...
So that's it. I've been found out. For all my worldly streets of Peckham airs, there really are more things in heaven and earth than I have dreamed of, Horatio, and porno-dwarves is one of them things!
But, natch, I digress. And what I wanted to talk about was something that not only had me smiling, but had the entire clientele in the garden of the Eight Bells wondering what I was on and whether or not they could get some too, so long and lusty was my laughter.
You see, there we were, me, my best friend from when I was nine, and my cousin from round the corner - oh and a nasty son of a hangover - and somehow, lord only knows how, the conversation turned to porn. Well, actually, I do know how...
You see, I was in the post office that morning, idly waiting twelve hours to get served while a tiny blind old lady tried to explain that modern technological advances in banking were of no help to her whatsoever and asking if they really wanted her to resort to keeping her pension in used fivers under the mattress. Seemed a fair enough question, so I hummed a merry tune, read all the leaflets and birthday cards, and - oh! - before I knew it, found myself staring at the top shelf.
Now come on! I live in Old Town! I'm dead posh, me! So, imagine my shock to find a top shelf running right round the whole newsagents, stuffed full of porn! Magazines, videos, the lot. I cocked my head to one side and started reading the titles - all absolutely fascinating as a source for an A Level English Language research project! "Porno Housewives" was my favourite (linguistically speaking), though "In the office" made me laugh and hope none of the boys I share mine with have such fantasies about our swivel chairs!
And that was it - my little anecdote over a half of shandy and a packet of crisps in the pub on a sunny Saturday lunchtime. End of. Or maybe not, cos in weighs my best friend from when I was nine with the tale of her porn-loving neighbour who regularly offers her husband choice items of televisual entertainment.
"Oh yes", she mutters, "you should see some of that stuff...."
I titter, vaguely imagining "Porno Housewives II", and then in she weighs again.
"Oh yeah, he's really into dwarves..."
And that is me out for the count, in paroxysms of absolutely uncontrollable laughter as I try my very very best to imagine what on earth "Porno Dwarves" is like!! I nearly choke to death trying to ask whether that is dwarf on dwarf action, or dwarf on non-dwarf, and all the time I am desperately well aware that I should not be calling anyone a dwarf in this day and age. But I can't stop, and thinking about Snow White only makes it far far worse...
So that's it. I've been found out. For all my worldly streets of Peckham airs, there really are more things in heaven and earth than I have dreamed of, Horatio, and porno-dwarves is one of them things!
