People tend not to believe me when I say that I’ve watched very little porn. But I don’t see the point: I have an imagination.
I’ve never thought that I had a very good imagination and my masturbatory fantasies are certainly no masterpieces. There’s very little in the way of back story and although I’m proud of my character development and story arc (particularly during the denouement), I tend to rely on tried and tested themes and avoid any plot twists.
As for the casting, It’s atrocious. All the female roles are unbelievably beautiful and clearly way out of my league. Nobody, in their right mind, would believe that women like that would want to sleep with me, let alone be eager to. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, I believe every scene without question.
My own role in this nonsense is perhaps the most ridiculous of all: I cast myself as an heroic super-lover, able to maintain and erection for days and satisfy any number of women. And as if things couldn’t get any more pathetic, this character even has a bigger cock than I do and is able to produce enough semen to drown a small choir.
The irony that I am, in reality, a scrawny, worn-out fifty-something that can barely keep it up for the duration of a quick restroom wank seems to pass me by completely.
That is until I finish…
And it’s still better than porn.
“So, you know, we’ll still be friends, but like you know… more.. like friends plus.”
“Yeah, absolutely. Brilliant. Friends plus. Like fuck buddies.”
“You ever refer to me that way again and you’ll be looking for somebody else to fuck! Buddy!”
Watching the golf: the Open Something. Not into golf but it’s on, that’s how bored I am today. It’s in Sandwich, Kent, quite near where I grew up.
It took me tick to realise why it meant something to me…
I lost my virginity on that golf course.
Seana was her name, or Shean, or Shana, she was Welsh.
I never saw her again,
I made a joke about a golf ball getting stuck in the imprint of her butt crack.
She pointed out that her crack imprint would be inverted and actually form a ridge, causing any such ball to roll away from, rather than in to, her crack.
As sad as we all are about last night’s loss, let’s not forget that football affects lives beyond the pitch and the terraces.
According to police data, domestic violence increases 26 per cent when England play. It goes up 38 per cent when England lose.
Today I fell in love with the wonderful Pharrell Williams – or maybe it’s his friends here.
Such a joyous tune – try not dancing to it – also great to see the gorgeous Miley making an appearance. Between being a child actor and a pop brat, she took a little time to do this…
You can tell she’s Dolly’s god-daughter.
INT. LIVING ROOM – MORNING
AKISHINO (KIKO) big boots, black jeans & T: sitting on sofa, exhausted, rolling a joint. There is a splash of blood on her top. BBC News on the TV can be heard indistinctly in the background.
LILLIAN looking like she’s just stepped off the set of ‘Call the Midwife’: enters carrying shopping, sees KIKO looking shattered and immediately puts the bags down and sits next to her. They sit in silence as KIKO finishes the spliff and lights it, leaning back and exhaling with a sigh.
What’s that on your top dear?
(not looking away from the telly)
(leaning back disgusted)
Not literally. [BEAT] I don’t know what body part it is. I meant that he was an arsehole.
They both watch the TV in silence.
… controversially released yesterday on parole after just 12 years for the rape and murder of two 15 year old girls, was found brutally beaten to death just hours after release. The police are saying that they have no… [CLICK].
LILLIAN who has switched her gaze to KIKO, reaches for the remote and shuts the TV down. She then wraps her arms around the girl and holds her.
(relaxing into the hug)
Touch me again without permission and I’ll break all of your fucking fingers.
LILLIAN smiles and kisses the top of KIKO’S head.
I love the way she dresses and I love that she seems to have as many pairs of glasses as she does outfits. Today they are super cool – I dunno know how best to describe them – like black and retro-sexy?
“Do they make me look a bit like a librarian?” she asks when I compliment them.
“Hmmm?” I pretend to muse. “Maybe like a librarian in a porn movie.” I immediately realise what I’ve said, and I can’t tell from her expression if I’ve amused or shocked her. “I wasn’t thinking of you in a porno.” I blurt out, making it worse. She just smiles. Shit! “Not in amongst the action.” I add. What’s wrong with me?
“Do they have librarians in pornos?” she asks innocently, probably trying to help.
“I don’t know.” I lie. “Maybe just to shush people, you know, if they’re climaxing too loudly.” I try to read her face, see if I’ve gone too far. Nothing.
“Shhhh!” she tells me.
Was showing off my new phone to my mate Karl and saying how I loved it more than my own mum, and he says
“I no longer believe you when you say that.”
Today I fell in love, obviously, with the fantastic PJ Harvey.
I was brought up by my gran. She was a very old-fashioned lady and once told me that ladies did not enjoy sex. Ladies, she said, only had sex to have babies and to please their husbands, who did enjoy it. Even as a child, I remember thinking what a shame that was.
I was nearly 18 before I discovered that women did like sex. It was life changing. And not only were they were enjoying it, they had orgasms too and some, apparently, even masturbated. It was, without doubt, the most wonderful information I had ever received, and nothing could have made me happier.
It still is and nothing has.
As a man, I admit that sometimes I have trouble recognising and identifying my own emotions. Honestly, if I’m not hungry or horny, I don’t have a clue what it is I’m feeling. So when she wants to know how I feel about her, I’m at a bit of a loss.
She definitely makes me feel horny, and she definitely makes me feel happy. Sometimes she makes me feel hungry, especially first thing in the morning but that might be breakfast and I’m confusing her with bacon. Ignoring the hunger then, that leaves happy and horny.
That’s love isn’t it?.
Next time you’re watching a show with a sign-language interpreter: turn the volume down and imagine that they are describing a series of sexual acts.
It’s hilarious and, at times, quite disgusting. Honestly, I was genuinely shocked at some of things the woman interpreting the lunchtime news was suggesting. some of which I’m sure is still illegal in some southern states.
Ignore the subtitles (but not the facial expressions) as you watch the clip here, and tell me she’s not talking dirty.
And she looks like such a nice girl!
Of course, no offense is intended to anyone who has a hearing impairment or who uses sign-language. In fact I’m actually very jealous of all the great sex you guys are having.
MINISTER ONE: OK hear me out on this. [PAUSE] How about we put a tax on vaginas?
MINISTER TWO: You want to tax vaginas?
MINISTER ONE: Well, not the vaginas themselves, just anyone who has one.
MINISTER TWO: You mean women?
MINISTER ONE: Well that makes it sound like we’re discriminating. It’s just that these stats show that the owners of vaginas are far more productive and creative, both economically and socially than any other group. It makes perfect fiscal sense. Vaginas are a gold mine.
MINISTER TWO: It might seem a little fairer if we taxed penises as well?
MINISTER ONE: WHAT!? Tax people for having a penis!? That is literally the stupidest fucking idea I have ever heard in my life! The fuck is wrong with you!? Seriously!? Tax people for having a penis!? Have you got a brain tumour or something? Listen to yourself man! I mean, WHAT THE FUCK??!!
I’ve decided to only fall in love once a day from now on.
Today it is the gorgeous Helen Arney talking out of her Uranus.
I’ve smoked cannabis,
Cheated at poker,
Lied to my husband,
Danced naked under the stars.
I’ve slapped him,
Told him a dirty secret,
Blamed a fart on him.
I’ve been ticked off by the police,
Seen a hole in the sky,
Convinced some people I was psychic,
I’ve stood up to a bully,
Been a bully.
Been kicked out of a library.
Broken into a cemetery.
Since I met him I’ve
Lost my religion,
Found my faith,
Fallen in love.
It’s been quite an afternoon.
I Watched Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride last night. It was delightful and very sweet. I fell in love with Emily here: the titular corpse.
The maggot in the eyeball made for a challenging wank at first, but I leaned into it, and I have to say, I fancy her something rotten.
Today was the warmest day yet. I saw my first butterfly and heard the sound of the first ice cream van of the year – I hate those noisy bastards, and I don’t like ice cream vans either.
“i see there’s no milk in the fridge!”
“how can you see what isn’t there?”
“if it’s not there, how can you see it?”
“i can see you haven’t bought any bloody milk!”
“’cause it’s not there, fuck nuts!”
“i know, i forgot, but what does no milk look like?”
“like no milk!”
“but if it’s not there, how can you see it’s not milk? it might be not eggs that you’re looking at.”
“did you forget the fucking eggs too!?”
“what does it look like?”
I bumped into an old mate today, someone I haven’t seen in years. He told me that Old Gay John had died. Old Gay John was one of the guys that used to hang around on the corner, way back when I first moved here. He wasn’t gay, we just called him that because he hated it so much. He wasn’t old either or called John.
you give my soul a hard-on,
you make my heart erect,
my being throb and pulsate,
my very core erupt.
you make my psyche tingle,
you make my mind inflate,
my life force squirt and dribble,
my spirit ejaculate.
when i taste your flesh,
i want it all sticky.
when i kiss your breasts,
i want them all sweaty.
when you fuck my face,
i want you to stink.
when i lick your arse,
i want you to reek.
when i kiss your tits,
i want to taste your cunt,
and when i lick your lips,
i want to taste my cum.