50 Shades Of Grey – Acceptable Porn

50 Shades Of Grey – Acceptable Porn

You have probably been battered around your lady-parts lately by all this excitement over the book ’50 Shades Of Grey’ by E. L. James.

Everyone is going mental over it… err… ok – so by ‘everyone’ I mean the same kind of women who went mental over the Harry Potter books.  Of course, with this book being of actual adult material, it’s been attracting the interest of even more people than the scarf-wearing geeky twat for retards.

And speaking of twats – that’s pretty much what 50 Shades Of Grey is all about!Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for porn.  Just stop trying to dress it up as something else!

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Oh, sure – they’ll call it ‘erotic fiction’, but essentially that just means it’s all the writing from pornographic magazines compiled and expanded without the pictures.And ‘erotica’ is never just about straight sex anymore.  It’ll be whips, chains, spanking, klyster suits and two girls eating each others shit out of a cup!

Yes, I AM a bitter ex-writer of erotica – and I’ve had this rant before about how ‘erotica’ these days can’t just be about a couple having sex.  Apparently it’s not ‘sexy’ until a toy soldier gets shoved up someones arsehole.

So this book is pretty much designed to get women, in the words of ‘The Inbetweeners’, frothing at the gash.There will be lots of one-handed reading going on, if you know what I mean?

Even more astounding given this fact, is that so many people are trying to get hold of second-hand copies off others!?!

“Are the pages stuck together?”  Would be my first question!  Then I’d also be purchasing some disposable gloves and anti-bacterial gel.

I suppose one good thing that will come from this mass hysteria is that it may open up the market for erotic writing again… So maybe I should start reposting the stuff I used to put up for Sex Blog Thursday on MySpace?

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Have spiders got some sort of collective vendetta against just me at the moment – or is it everyone?

There aren’t all that many in the rest of the house, but every time I look up in my bedroom, Mini-Spider Hit Squad is moving into position surrounding me!

OK, they’re hardly going to eat me in my sleep, but I can’t say I’m too excited at the prospect of eating THEM in MY sleep, either!

So 6 had to die yesterday, and 4 the day before that.  And this morning another bugger was there!

But I suspect these are just the advance party.

Bigger beasties are lurking in the doorways…

I came home last week to find a medium-sized spiddy sat in the middle of his web – naked, no less!!!  AND it was blocking off the entire front door to my home!

What the fuck did he think he was up to???

Luckily, I hadn’t taken my bike gloves off at the time, so a swift right cross let him know his name wasn’t down, and he wasn’t coming in.

I think after 3 days of that, he either ended up in Spider Infirmary, or my cunning change to a back-handed knuckle strike felled the arsehole arachnid.

But lo and behold, a Morning Spiddy appeared for attack, covering the door so when I stepped out to ready my bike, I’d be covered in web like in one of those old Tarzan movies!

Luckily the spider never managed to sink his fangs into me, as I always escaped before it had chance but this morning was close!

Spiky hair is a bastard for collecting webs, too!

Then, as I rode my bike up the driveway towards the road, elated to be escaping my home without being mummified and having my juices sucked from me (and not in the good way that women can do), they had one last-ditch attempt!

Right at the top of the driveway, to my horror I spotted another Tarzan-catcher web, cunningly using an overhanging Holly Tree to cover my escape route.

And Harry The Hairy Spider was home!

I tried moving as far to my right as I could, but the left mirror sliced through the bottom support strand of the web as I rode past.

This caused the whole Spider-Web combo to swing around in a huge arc, disappearing from my field of view around the side of my helmet.  Last known trajectory: the left side of the escaping biker.

Staring straight ahead lest I see hairy legs clinging to my visor, I opened the throttle and kept it open, ignoring the crawling/biting feelings on my poor exposed neck and from within my leathers.

If I’m lucky, the wee fucker is roadkill somewhere between my house and my workplace.

If I’m unlucky, he’ll be waiting for me back at home with a New Improved Web possibly promoted by Barry Scott of Cilit Bang fame.

If I’m REALLY unlucky, he’s to my left right now, hiding in the pile of leathers, waiting to jump on me when I next touch them, so that I scream like a girl and all the women in the office laugh at me

I -ing hate spiders!

Mascara: Dip Your Head In Wax And Shove It In The Vacuum Cleaner Bag!

Mascara: Dip Your Head In Wax And Shove It In The Vacuum Cleaner Bag!

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Another advert came on TV the other day for mascara.

Mascara is black shit women paint on their eyelashes to make them stand out.  Job jobbed for 40 years…

But THEN, some twat decided all women need to have thicker and longer eyelashes.

Not content for dumb chavvy cunts to stick 4 sets of false eyelashes on each eye so they’re so heavy they look like they’ve had a fucking stroke, some absolute arse-wank came up with the bright idea of ‘volumising’ mascara.

The basic aim of this is to convince idiots that THEIR brand of black shit somehow works miracles in that it makes your lashes thicker and longer.

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How?

Have a fucking think about it.

HOW exactly can anything you paint over something else make it thicker or longer, other than sticking loads fo shit over the painted item?

“Coats your eyelashes in so much shit they look bigger and longer!”  This of course with the caveat that 11 out of the 15 women surveyed agreed.

YOU’RE NOT FOOLING ME, YOU HORRIBLE OVER-PRICED CUNTS!!!

Why don’t you women just hand a flap of furry carpet from your forehead like some kind of fucking tarantula and be done with it??  Or maybe dip your head in hot wax and roll a moulting cat over your eyelids?

Because that’s where you’re headed!

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Should We Allow Gay Marriage In The UK?

Should We Allow Gay Marriage In The UK?

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Let me ask you another question:

If you’re straight, why do you care?

Is it honestly going to affect you in any way at all if two people who love each other choose to marry each other and wear a ring?

If you answered ‘yes’ either of these questions it’s because you’re some religious head-the-ball who shouldn’t be allowed to play with the rest of us in society anyway, or you’re some trouble-making bigot with nothing better to worry about in your life than bullshit ‘issues’ that don’t even affect you. Oh, hang on – are they both the same thing, anyway? Hmm…

I just don’t understand why anyone wants to stop someone else being happy with their life – as long as their life doesn’t hurt or adversely affect anybody else.

And let’s face it – who does gay marriage hurt? It might mean a straight man can’t have his dream lesbian threesome because it would be against the laws of marriage… but then again how many (straight) married couples are into swinging and dogging and swapping, anyway?

Many of these religious types so opposed to gay marriages are, ironically, well-known for having gay sex. With small children.

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But let’s flip the coin here for a moment!

Why would anyone want to be part of any religious ceremony for a religion that hates them, anyway?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to tell the Church to fuck off and die, and say it loud and proud that you don’t need some bullshit ceremony to support your way of life?!

And if these filthy rotten homo’s are cheapening that whole concept of marriage, just what the Hell is the official line about rampant whore-slag fuck-anythings like Katie Price aka Jordan, or Jodie Marsh who even had a TV program called “Who’s going to take her up the aisle”?

Get a grip, people!

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Anti-Wasp Tactics 2012

Anti-Wasp Tactics 2012

[This is a yearly re-post to highlight my ongoing battle]

I’ve told in a previous blog about how I had the shit stung out of me by several wasps in the past, and since then I’ve waged war on the black and yellow bastards! (oo-err – that sounds racist!)

This morning, after actually getting some decent sleep for once, I was suddenly wide-the-fuck-awake in bed. My clock read 05:30.  Son of a biscuit!!!!

After working up a rage over my bodies betrayal, I lay there in the dawn silence and heard the noise which had obviously awoken me.

*BzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz…. BZZZZZZZZzzz… zzzz… ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

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A fucking wasp!!!  I swear the little shit had some kind of Wasp Megaphone, too!

The small window was open a fraction, and like some kind of little buzzy Ninja assassin, Cunto The Wasp had crept inside to sting me to death as I slept!

Luckily, the net curtain had foiled his initial attack, and the little runt was bouncing around between the window and the netting.

With a bloodcurdling roar, I tore open the curtains, intent on crushing his head like a miniature grapefruit… only to see him successfully negotiate the netting and fly free into my bedroom sanctuary!

My flesh crawled as he flew straight at my face, my hair stood on end, and I uttered a kind of “Gnnn-argunk!!” sound as I flapped wildly and ducked and dived like Prince Naseem Hamed in his prime fighting days!

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Jumping from my bed, I went all chameleon – with one eye tracking Cunto, and the other searching for a suitable Squishing Weapon. Then I realised I was naked!

Now, I’ve survived wasp attacks before – having been stung on my back, my legs… even my face.  They don’t hurt as much as people like to have you believe (unless you go into anaphylactic shock like some girly poof – QUITTER!!!).

But the thought of that little leaky barb jabbing into the side-wall of my Japs-Eye, or, heaven forbid, emptying his load deep into my scrotum – was not something I EVER wanted to experience!

I focused my own Magical Ninja Powers, and skilfully Boshi-Kenned the nasty bugger back at the window, where I met his attempt to rise again with a stout troll ornament and cracked his thorax like a dropped M&M.

Well, ok – maybe I flapped my hands around like I was signing the commentary to a deaf audience – but it still had the same end result.

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Mission accomplished.

My extensive knowledge of the enemy has taught me that wasps emit a distress pheromone which could attract others to his corpse, so I closed the window and gave the carcass a quick “AHHHHHHH!!!!!!” to show it who was the Daddy.

I’m sure this conflict will be repeated over the coming months, as happens every Summer. What can I do?

Is there some substance the little buzzy buggers hate that I could smear around the sides of an open window and they wouldn’t want to get past?  Fire is tempting, but not a practical option.

There must be a way. The battle lines are drawn, and I need to prepare my tactics to ensure my survival!

I shall fight them on the window ledges!!!!

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