INDIANA JONES & BRIGHT-FUCKING-EYES
If there was a qualification in porn I'd have a fucking PhD.

I really would.

Porn is, quite frankly, the greatest invention in the entire history of humankind - fuck the wheel, fuck fire, fuck - well, each other and capture it on film; starting with missionary, changing to doggy style, a spot of common-or-garden anal, and always finishing with a spectacular facial cumshot, the kind Jesus himself would be proud of; its more moving than visiting the Sistine Chapel.

And this appreciation of the fuck-arts started because of my dear ol' dad.

I like to think of it as my Indiana Jones years...

Every Saturday the old dears would fuck off for a couple of hours to Tescos. My sister would go out to hang round River Island, looking cool, listening to Duran Duran on the beatbox, leaving me alone in the house.

No sooner had the front door locked with a resounding CLICK!!!, I was up and out of bed. Dressed in seconds.

Then the Indiana Jones music would start playing in my head.

I'd leg it to the garage, find the step ladders, leg it back into the house, up the stairs, and venture into the loft. I'd dodge the spiders, the cobwebs, the precariously stacked junk, and then in the remotest corner I'd find it...

My Arc of the Covenant.

Or, to put it another way, my Dad's box of porn.

I'd take a photographic snapshot in my mind of EXACTLY how the smut was stored so I could place it back later without my Dad knowing I'd been meddling, I'd take a couple of videos, and trembling, rush down stairs to the video player in the living room, weak from exertion and the fact that I'd usually be sporting in stonking erection.

With shaky hands I'd put the tape in, press play, and sit back and watch the dirtiest, nastiest 70's porn imaginable.

It was great - I learned more through those Saturday morning wank marathons than I ever learned in school. And to this day I have a strange affiliation for women with dodgy permed hairdoos and incredibly hairy twats; the type that look like they're being mauled in the groinal area by a very aggressive Scottish Highland terrier.

After rapid-fire load shooting, turning my pristine sheets of Kleenex into a sticky, manky ball of bleach-smelling cum-pulp, I'd return the videos to the loft and stash the ladders back in the garage.

Then I'd make a sandwich.

Then I'd watch Number 73.

Then I'd get a bit horny at the sight of Sandi Togsvick in dungarees and repeat the whole Indiana Jones routine from scratch; with one eye on the driveway incase the folks or my sister came home.

But the strange thing about my Dad's Dutch wankbank collection was the soundtrack. He'd transferred the fuckers from Cinefilm over to video and put on his own music.

So, for a couple of years or so, every Saturday morning without fail, I'd find myself polishing the family jewels to...

Bright Eyes.

Every - Single - Fucking - Video.

Bright Eyes. Played on a fucking loop.

That song would get into my brain and stay there. I know every fucking WORD of that fucker by heart.

And I FUCKING HATE BRIGHT EYES WITH AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING BOILING LOATHING.

Always have done ever since I was a toddler and my dad played it and it made me cry; frankly that fellas voice scares the shit out of me.

One time when my parents were at a funeral and I knew I'd have the place to myself for longer, I dug even deeper into the box and found a tape I'd never seen before.

I then spent a confusing half an hour wrestling the purple headed warrior to a homemade vid of my dad fucking my mum. I learned that my dad is hung like the fucking Trojan horse and that my mum really likes it up the dirt track - and all of this to the familiar soundtrack of Bright-fucking-Eyes...

Fast-forward to last year.

I'm visiting the folks with Liz, my girlfriend. We're in the car on the way to a restaurant. Polite conversation about the weather, discussing the decline of the mighty Coventry City FC from a shit footie club to an even shitter footie club, you know the drill.

My dad's flicking through the radio stations and he settles on something, a songs JUST starting...

Bright eyes, burning like fire-

But before the whining cunt cant start the second line I say:

"Jesus, dad - I was forced to listen to this every weekend when I was a kid, can't we have something else on?"

My dad keeps his hands on the wheel, eyes on the road.

"Do you remember when you were really little and I played this song at Uncle Franco's wedding and you cried?" he chuckles, I nod. "Well, lets just say I thought it would deter you from doing what you were doing..."

I experience that all-too-familar being in a plummetting lift feeling in my stomach.

"What were you doing, Spanky?" my mum and Liz ask similtaniously.

I turn to my dad and say:

"Cheers, dad," and he punches me playfully on the arm.

So, in a way, I suppose I am becoming more like my old man everyday, what with the appreciation of the porn and the desire to fuck with little kids minds for my own kicks, why else do you think I do voluntary work with the little cuntbags???
( SpankyHanky, Fri 1 May 2009, 9:46, 14 replies)

'Mighty' indeed
CCFC are known, somewhat sarcastically, as the 'mighty Cov' in my house, a habit which I have managed to pass on to the other long suffering Cov fan at work.

I'm pleased to see the b3ta Coventrarians taking up the baton!
(grandmaswhiskers, Fri 1 May 2009, 10:00, closed)

Growing up in Coventry...
...hearing CCFC described as 'mighty' doesn't even register anymore, it's just accepted as the norm.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Fri 1 May 2009, 10:17, closed)

'Mighty City'...

Along with 'Fortress Ricoh'

Whenever anybody says those phrases, there's a depressive cynicism in the tone of voice that you just don't get with anybody else.

I also (preparing to stand corrected) can't think of any other group of fans so despondant that we actively embrace how shit our team are.

I for one, have little replica kits bought every year...

I make my kids wear them out in public...when they've misbehaved. They despise being associated with Mighty City. So they are better judges of football than I am.

They're 8 & 5 years old.

trufacts.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 1 May 2009, 10:37, closed)

Luton Town F.C

(Evilweevil is covered in bees, Fri 1 May 2009, 13:12, closed)

Spanky

I love your writing style but I'm beginning to notice a bit of a theme developing with your posts. Can I challenge you to write something totally unconnected with sex?

Just to see what would happen.

Have a click though.

Che
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 1 May 2009, 10:07, closed)

Most men only think about sex once every few hours.
but between Spanky and Russell Brand they have managed to bring the average down to just 8 minutes.
(The Ear-Trumpet Addicting is NOT a word., Fri 1 May 2009, 11:54, closed)

Ahhh
The secret trove of dad's porno, Not even a lock could stop me from getting my hands on those bastards. I assume you remembered to rewind the video's back to where they were in the film before stashing them back?
( schizophrenic_sheep, Fri 1 May 2009, 11:27, closed)

THANK YOU!!!!!!
THAT EXPLAINS IT!!!!!!

I really thought my dad had some weird Elliott - ET thing going on there.... or possibly CCTV cameras...

God, I'm a twat...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 1 May 2009, 11:51, closed)

haha
what's done is done. Good Read though.
well done
(The Ear-Trumpet Addicting is NOT a word., Fri 1 May 2009, 11:55, closed)

Even
the most forgetful man will know where he last stopped a gentleman's video.

Now the question is, do you remember when the bright eyes cropped up? Did the video's start off with your dad's fine dubbing, or did they magically appear after X amount of time after you gotten your hands on it?
( schizophrenic_sheep, Fri 1 May 2009, 12:07, closed)

They started that way
what can I say - my dad knows me...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 1 May 2009, 13:06, closed)

turning into your parents
i actually genuinely like bright eyes because of its relation to the watership down film which is one of the first films my dad took me to see at the odeon cinema (just up from cov swimming baths).So when i saw bright eyes mentioned in your post i already had a tear in my eye.

The real waterworks started though when i saw your mention of CCFC's decline.......

Im going to stop now before i start dishing out blame for the state of the once mighty "sky blue army" in a crazed fashion
(Cov Boy, Fri 1 May 2009, 14:55, closed)

I was wondering what kind
of sick and twisted individual would overdub porn with Bright Eyes, especially as it only ever reminds me of Watership Down and makes me feel sad...

The fact that your old man was deliberately trying to traumatise you is, I think, an act of pure evil genius, and I would love to shake his hand for it.

Top work Mr Spanky Sr.!!!
( Ril3y is a brit abroad.. bring on the Stella / Asahi, Sat 2 May 2009, 9:02, closed)

i like the sound of your dad
but i fucking hate bright eyes and watership down scares the shit out of me :(
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 3 May 2009, 18:24, closed)