It’s been AGES, I know.
Fear not, not dead yet, still living and still fucking.
Ah, but so much has happened…and how are you? Still with that twatish boyfriend?
So…
In the time since we last properly spoke, I have had more threesomes than hot dinners, licked about four arseholes, bought some Vivienne Westwood boots and been to a Punjabi wedding (important though somewhat entirely unconnected).
The Dame (yes, she of eternal grace and beauty) insisted that I write again. The intention always was to, mind. And now I have.
About to move out of my current boudoir and into another which homes a cat.
And then there’s all that ‘culcha’; Rohinton Mistry, Tobias Woolf, ‘Her Naked Skin’ at the National, you know the sort. Things are going well.
Oh yes, and there have been two trips:
1) Prague – went with a homosexual and had lots of homosexual experiences. The thing about Prague is that the scene is slightly underground and there are ‘male only’ zones in the gay clubs. Of course I shall be championing the Freedom of Movement and insisting that Britain adopt a similar approach. Heaven and The Shadow Lounge simply aren’t cool enough
2) Vancouver – Bang in the centre of Homosexual street, however, this time travelling with my mother. Scenic, but mellow, if you see what I’m saying. Having said this, the saunas there are dead posh; carpeted floors and everything.
Oh! And Katerina has a new fella (think educated incense sticks), out with the old in with the new.
Othello and Desdemona have separated. Sigh.
The Dame is still with the Actress.
Arthur is still, well Arthur.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Council House and Violent
Went to University last week and met my super-talented friends, one of whom is a young, married (!) American poet.
‘Tell me’ he said, in his southern Oklahoma accent, ‘ I want to know about those people who wear Burberry’.
‘Oh, you mean chavs?’
‘Yes, I wanna know about chavs’.
‘What about them?’
‘Well what are they?’
‘I think one might describe them as poor, often Caucasian people who want to be rich black American rappers. It’s about ambition I suppose.’
‘And how do they interact with the folks in high society?’ he persisted.
‘Well, we avoid each other, innit?’
‘Tell me’ he said, in his southern Oklahoma accent, ‘ I want to know about those people who wear Burberry’.
‘Oh, you mean chavs?’
‘Yes, I wanna know about chavs’.
‘What about them?’
‘Well what are they?’
‘I think one might describe them as poor, often Caucasian people who want to be rich black American rappers. It’s about ambition I suppose.’
‘And how do they interact with the folks in high society?’ he persisted.
‘Well, we avoid each other, innit?’
Work
Six weeks into her ‘relationship’ with a man, Ms BoHo (friend and Patron Saint of Bohemians) declared
‘I don’t think my lover loves me any more’.
‘Why not? ‘ I asked, as I was supposed to.’
‘Well, I know I saw him only last night, but I’m abroad this weekend and then he’s abroad the week after and It’ll be quite a while before we see each other. He’s a boy and this probably won’t even occur to him, I know, i just wish he thought about these things more'.
‘Yes, he’s a 33 year old boy and that thought probably didn’t occur to him.’
‘I just wish he was more eager to see me. I know he likes me, but I wonder if it’s just at the right level’.
‘It’s been six weeks ducky, in normal circumstances, you’d have met twice and slept together once. Give him a break and stop being a bunny boiler’.
‘But I just want to eat him up’.
‘Oh’.
She laughed.
But seriously, how long must one wait before they can reasonably expect declarations of love from their lover? My personal view is at least one year. After all, it takes that much time to flirt, dance, shag, meet the family and go shopping for domestic products.
So…
On one side of my office we have Ms BoHo and on the other Miss e-Numbers.
One is greedy for attention and the other is asexual, used to propose to her Boyf twice a month and would never eat yogurt which wasn’t pro-biotic.
‘I think I’m in love with my BoyF again’ said Miss e-Numbers over lunch the other week. She’d been having problems.
When I say problems, I mean that when her BoyF went on holiday she came out drinking with us and realised that actually she didn’t really miss him as much as she should.
When compared to the plight of the African Elephant and world poverty, however, the girl’s realisation that perhaps she too could be independent seemed to somewhat pale in significance.
‘I don’t think my lover loves me any more’.
‘Why not? ‘ I asked, as I was supposed to.’
‘Well, I know I saw him only last night, but I’m abroad this weekend and then he’s abroad the week after and It’ll be quite a while before we see each other. He’s a boy and this probably won’t even occur to him, I know, i just wish he thought about these things more'.
‘Yes, he’s a 33 year old boy and that thought probably didn’t occur to him.’
‘I just wish he was more eager to see me. I know he likes me, but I wonder if it’s just at the right level’.
‘It’s been six weeks ducky, in normal circumstances, you’d have met twice and slept together once. Give him a break and stop being a bunny boiler’.
‘But I just want to eat him up’.
‘Oh’.
She laughed.
But seriously, how long must one wait before they can reasonably expect declarations of love from their lover? My personal view is at least one year. After all, it takes that much time to flirt, dance, shag, meet the family and go shopping for domestic products.
So…
On one side of my office we have Ms BoHo and on the other Miss e-Numbers.
One is greedy for attention and the other is asexual, used to propose to her Boyf twice a month and would never eat yogurt which wasn’t pro-biotic.
‘I think I’m in love with my BoyF again’ said Miss e-Numbers over lunch the other week. She’d been having problems.
When I say problems, I mean that when her BoyF went on holiday she came out drinking with us and realised that actually she didn’t really miss him as much as she should.
When compared to the plight of the African Elephant and world poverty, however, the girl’s realisation that perhaps she too could be independent seemed to somewhat pale in significance.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Miss e-numbers - ingredients for a healthy relationship
Miss e-numbers and I went for lunch the other day. On the table was discussion as to why she felt it necessary to wear her BoyF down with fortnightly marriage proposals. Now, having some experience of the perpetual bunny boiler, what she had to say didn’t impress me at all.
‘The thing is, I’ve been trying for a long time to get him to marry me. And before, it seemed he wouldn’t, but I think now that he might. I just need to wear him down until he says yes, get him drunk or something.’
‘Fabulous darling, I doubt anybody’s ever tried that one before’, I offered.
She began to laugh. It has sort of become an in joke at the office.
‘Oh, how was your evening?’ They all ask.
‘Oh, you know, had dinner, asked the boy to marry me, again.’
I dare say, the reality for the poor BoyF, living under the constant gaze of an e-number loathing bunny boiling sweet lass must be excruciatingly painful. But she doesn’t deter, this one. At least, not until yesterday.
‘Two weeks ago, the BoyF went away and I was moody that he hadn’t invited me. That Friday we all went for drinks after work, do you remember?’
Of course I remembered that Friday post-work binge where everybody thought it was funny to put flowers in their hair and take photos of us looking, er, Hawaiian. Of course I remember drinking three slippery nipples which were served to us in flute –like glasses, ever-so-pretty. Of course I remember that the night had ended with an overly serious conversation about the merits of performing oral sex on menstrual women. Of course I remember these things.
So, Miss e-numbers had great fun that night and began to realise just how much fun she used to have when she was single. So much fun that the following Monday she asked me to go for drinks again and then again on the Friday. But I was flu-ridden and told her to bugger off.
So, now Miss e-numbers isn’t sure whether she wants to pursue the relationship but feels that a lacking sex drive (the primary factor) is not reason enough to end a relationship. Thank goodness he hasn’t accepted her proposals yet.
‘I just don’t ever think about or want sex regularly. But there are other things which I’m very happy about in our relationship, and he seems to desire me constantly’.
Again, we’ve reached that age of dilemma. How much longer before the sex fizzles out completely.
Even asexual people eventually succumb to lust, it’s my modest opinion. Even they want to stick it in and have somebody moan in response. They just don’t know it yet, that’s all.
A positive to emerge from this deliberation is, however, that we’ve avoided talk of artificial colours and preservatives. And instead, we have lessons on how to wear down men enough for them to accept a marriage proposal, regardless of when they want to. If she wasn’t such a bunny boiler, I think I’d say Miss e-numbers has certain spunk.
‘The thing is, I’ve been trying for a long time to get him to marry me. And before, it seemed he wouldn’t, but I think now that he might. I just need to wear him down until he says yes, get him drunk or something.’
‘Fabulous darling, I doubt anybody’s ever tried that one before’, I offered.
She began to laugh. It has sort of become an in joke at the office.
‘Oh, how was your evening?’ They all ask.
‘Oh, you know, had dinner, asked the boy to marry me, again.’
I dare say, the reality for the poor BoyF, living under the constant gaze of an e-number loathing bunny boiling sweet lass must be excruciatingly painful. But she doesn’t deter, this one. At least, not until yesterday.
‘Two weeks ago, the BoyF went away and I was moody that he hadn’t invited me. That Friday we all went for drinks after work, do you remember?’
Of course I remembered that Friday post-work binge where everybody thought it was funny to put flowers in their hair and take photos of us looking, er, Hawaiian. Of course I remember drinking three slippery nipples which were served to us in flute –like glasses, ever-so-pretty. Of course I remember that the night had ended with an overly serious conversation about the merits of performing oral sex on menstrual women. Of course I remember these things.
So, Miss e-numbers had great fun that night and began to realise just how much fun she used to have when she was single. So much fun that the following Monday she asked me to go for drinks again and then again on the Friday. But I was flu-ridden and told her to bugger off.
So, now Miss e-numbers isn’t sure whether she wants to pursue the relationship but feels that a lacking sex drive (the primary factor) is not reason enough to end a relationship. Thank goodness he hasn’t accepted her proposals yet.
‘I just don’t ever think about or want sex regularly. But there are other things which I’m very happy about in our relationship, and he seems to desire me constantly’.
Again, we’ve reached that age of dilemma. How much longer before the sex fizzles out completely.
Even asexual people eventually succumb to lust, it’s my modest opinion. Even they want to stick it in and have somebody moan in response. They just don’t know it yet, that’s all.
A positive to emerge from this deliberation is, however, that we’ve avoided talk of artificial colours and preservatives. And instead, we have lessons on how to wear down men enough for them to accept a marriage proposal, regardless of when they want to. If she wasn’t such a bunny boiler, I think I’d say Miss e-numbers has certain spunk.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Slag Meetings
There have been two Slag Meetings over the past two months. I should have written about this earlier, granted, but things are better late than never, are they not?
1) Slag Meeting held on 6 February – those in attendance Ophelia, Katerina, Adriana, The Dame and yours truly
We discussed, among other things, the importance of hiding the evidence which accumulates once somebody begins to cheat. One must keep a tab on text messages, voicemails, dirty knickers and the like, and stay one step ahead of the game. The clever whore knows how to cheat and also how to win without anybody ever knowing any better. Katerina appears to be perfecting this art more and more. Her ride on the dual carriageway has been on going for three months now and still neither The Boy nor The Dude appears to know any better. Throw into this another man who is lusting after Katerina and sends her photos of his erect penis over this phone, things become all the more complicated. As The Boy prepared to take Katerina for a drive the other night, she stood in the kitchen deleting as many of these messages as possible.
We talked a little about The Dame’s almost flourishing love life. The Dame who was at the end of her tether had finally met somebody who she thought might be what she was looking for. If I remember correctly, however, they hadn’t yet slept together. They were still at the ‘watching DVDs’ phase.
Details of the second and most recent slag meeting to follow…
1) Slag Meeting held on 6 February – those in attendance Ophelia, Katerina, Adriana, The Dame and yours truly
We discussed, among other things, the importance of hiding the evidence which accumulates once somebody begins to cheat. One must keep a tab on text messages, voicemails, dirty knickers and the like, and stay one step ahead of the game. The clever whore knows how to cheat and also how to win without anybody ever knowing any better. Katerina appears to be perfecting this art more and more. Her ride on the dual carriageway has been on going for three months now and still neither The Boy nor The Dude appears to know any better. Throw into this another man who is lusting after Katerina and sends her photos of his erect penis over this phone, things become all the more complicated. As The Boy prepared to take Katerina for a drive the other night, she stood in the kitchen deleting as many of these messages as possible.
We talked a little about The Dame’s almost flourishing love life. The Dame who was at the end of her tether had finally met somebody who she thought might be what she was looking for. If I remember correctly, however, they hadn’t yet slept together. They were still at the ‘watching DVDs’ phase.
Details of the second and most recent slag meeting to follow…
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Bollywood Nights
There's nothing I hate more than somebody who believes being a good Christian entails sucking and wanking and everything else except putting it directly in the hole. It makes me livid. After all, I'm sure Jesus wouldn't mind that somebody had their gob over your cock, so long as the vagina never really got close. Forfucksakes.
This brings me to yesterday when I hosted a Bollywood Party at my house. I say party when in fact it was only I, Belle de Bengal and Norah Rockers. Being the good Indian boy I am, I got up early and spent three hours in the kitchen making an assortment of Indian delicacies. And once they'd arrived, we watched a string of Indian films and drank cheap topical juice. Indian.
Belle de Bengal is currently 'seeing a boy'. By 'seeing', she means they sleep in the same bed once in a while, have oral sex and decide that full blown sex is something they really shouldn't do. Actually, this is him, all him. She wants to fuck him, but he won't.
'I'm going to break up with him' she declared.
'Hang on, I didn't even think you were going out?'
'Well, we're not'.
'So, what's there to break?'
'Oh, it's complicated. I don't want to stay with him when he's not giving me sex and I'm looking for it elsewhere'.
'So, what's there to break?'
I just don't get it. I mean, the whole point of 'seeing somebody' was that the element of exclusivity so important for so many people was removed from the equation.
If you ask me, she's doesn't owe anybody anything. A long term future is also far out of the equation. All in all, Belle de Bengal doesn't have much hope with this man, but if she wants to dump him, who am I to intervene. The voice of reason?
That said, our feast of Yash Chopra, Vishal Bharadwaj and Mira Nair films was wonderful. And the food, delightful. Even though I do say so myself.
This brings me to yesterday when I hosted a Bollywood Party at my house. I say party when in fact it was only I, Belle de Bengal and Norah Rockers. Being the good Indian boy I am, I got up early and spent three hours in the kitchen making an assortment of Indian delicacies. And once they'd arrived, we watched a string of Indian films and drank cheap topical juice. Indian.
Belle de Bengal is currently 'seeing a boy'. By 'seeing', she means they sleep in the same bed once in a while, have oral sex and decide that full blown sex is something they really shouldn't do. Actually, this is him, all him. She wants to fuck him, but he won't.
'I'm going to break up with him' she declared.
'Hang on, I didn't even think you were going out?'
'Well, we're not'.
'So, what's there to break?'
'Oh, it's complicated. I don't want to stay with him when he's not giving me sex and I'm looking for it elsewhere'.
'So, what's there to break?'
I just don't get it. I mean, the whole point of 'seeing somebody' was that the element of exclusivity so important for so many people was removed from the equation.
If you ask me, she's doesn't owe anybody anything. A long term future is also far out of the equation. All in all, Belle de Bengal doesn't have much hope with this man, but if she wants to dump him, who am I to intervene. The voice of reason?
That said, our feast of Yash Chopra, Vishal Bharadwaj and Mira Nair films was wonderful. And the food, delightful. Even though I do say so myself.
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