Concealed handfun
Back in the depths of pre-history, when Mrs Rosy Palm and her five lovely daughters were my bestest friends and the world wide wank had yet to be invented, I found myself in search of a good place to hide my extensive collection of gentleman's literature. Then I noticed one day that the door to the airing cupboard -- which was in my bedroom -- was hollow, and open along the bottom edge. If I rolled my jazz mags up really tight and stuffed them up the gap, they would wedge themselves tightly and stay there.

Genius, I tell you.

The only problem was that this made the door -- which was only made of very light plywood -- about twice as heavy, which would've been rather suspicious. So undaunted, I rigged up a pulley (lord alone knows where I found such a thing lying about) with a piece of string and a weight, as a makeshift auto-door-closing-device. I told my parents I was pissed off about the door being left open and my room getting too hot, and this way it would never happen. The addition of the extra weight/friction masked the increased weight of the door itself.

Double genius.

I was rather chuffed with this arrangement and it persisted for several of my masturbation-filled teen years.

I'd all but forgotten about it until the time, well over a decade later, that I brought my ultimately-to-be-wife to meet my family. And my mother chose to reveal over dinner that one day during that time she'd gone to the airing cupboard, opened the door, and been startled when something dropped onto her foot, seemingly from nowhere. And even more startled when it turned out to be a rather filthy pornographic magazine.

Spotting my cunning ruse, she decided to stuff the thing back where it had come from and say nothing about it. She concluded the revelation by saying:

"Frankly, I was just happy to know you weren't gay."

Thanks mum.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Tue 25 Aug 2009, 15:43, Reply)