Public obscenity

On how to talk about foreskin and other such matters whilst in a very public place. By public I mean, of course, Leicester Square tube station.

If you are going to talk about foreskin increasing a man’s propensity to smell at the onset of a blow job, do it with confidence. There’s nothing worse than half whispering dirty things because, believe it or not, this makes them sound even more sordid than they might otherwise sound.

If people stare at you disapprovingly, smile back and find an appropriate place to halt the conversation to save yourself looks of mortification from the old prude across the escalators. She who doesn’t embrace your filth will find her pussy coming off in her hand in matter of hours later, fear not.

Make sure those with you appear to be engrossed in the conversation. For silence is better than spraying sexual anecdotes to what may as well be a brick wall. If you’re going to make an impact with your perversions at least make sure there are people around to absorb the information.

More often than not people will be interested in what you have to say, despite the look of utter revulsion on their pretty little faces. And chances are that you’ll be the talk of their dinner party a few hours later.

British people don’t talk about sex, that’s what we’re led to believe. Of course, the complete quote is as follows:

‘The British don’t like to talk about sex, until they meet somebody who talks openly about it and all of a sudden it’s all piss tit and cocks’.

If people give you a look of pity/sympathy/pain, pull out your machete immediately and shoot, for it’s now or never.

This, dearest bloggers, is how you leave behind a sexual legacy.