» Public Sex

Does it count as 'public' if it's with your own kids?
My wife and I have a boat in Tewkesbury and last time we were up there it was a bit cold so on the Sunday the children got into bed with me while No.2 put the post-shag brews on. I fell asleep, only to be rudely woken a few minutes later by my son, who's discovered that the bed is wet inside. I mutter something about 'condensation on a wooden boat' and turn to nod off again until yet more urgent jabs in the back and the cry of "Yes daddy but it's not compensation it's all sticky and it tasted weird too" followed by Cordelia - all of 6 years old - with "Oooh, let me try!". So, from this delightful and genuinly heart-warming family scene several questions arise:

i. Am I now a card carrying nonse in need of a huge collection of santa clauses and deers on the front of the house a.k.a. "Paedo Lights"
ii. Will my son, post early wanking years, remember yesterday's events at some point to wake in the night screaming his noggin off then run into my bedroom and pan me in?
iii. Since my wife contributed her own personal moip into the mix, as it were, isn't she also a padeo?
iv. Since my wife is a paedo ought I send her to a council estate in Portsmouth with a sign roung her neck so she can get what's coming to her, the skanky kiddy fiddling coo

I think we should be told.
(Mon 27th Apr 2009, 11:07, More)

» Public Sex

Hooers, hairy boils and stinky blowies
Having worked out at an early age that the uglier the woman, the more likely I would be to get a shag, especially when 10 pints in and barely concious, I’ve always made a habit of cracking off with the fattest, most skid-marked, puss ridden lasses possible. Several cases come to mind involving public penetrations.

The first was a woman I met during a lads’ weekend to Blackpool. She was 57 and her husband was at the bar. With a false leg two inches shorter than the good one and a personal shopper at Kwik-Save it was all I could do to try to suck off the hairs on the boil over her lip. 2 Barcadi and Cokes (and a pint for her husband) later I was bouncing off her flaps in the gents, covered in piss and vomitus.

A couple of years later I was with a hooker in a hotel in Cologne. With a colleague in the next bed (hence public) I asked the lass to sit on my face. As I was on the vinegars, one of ‘her’ testicles fell out and landed on my nose. I did the right thing and went off spectaculary a few seconds later but at the time there was an enormous sense of having to crunch the little fella in my teeth. Managed to resist though. Afterwards she nonchalantly popped him back in to the sound of my mate laughing himself silly into his pillow. Lesson learnt and from now on if the hookers stand up to piss I take it as a dead cert sign of future testicular mayhem.

Events hit a new low in Amsterdam where I’d won the yellow jersey for attempting to knock one out on the tube to Heathrow. 12 wanks and 11 hours later I staggered into a wank booth off the main drag only to be followed in by what appeared to be Jocky Wilson in a wig. This unit sat down, unzipped my bags and promptly vommed up all over the new trouser. Such was my state of mind that as she staggered from the booth I made a grab for one of her huge norks only to be rebuffed with a rather manly growl.

There are other episodes in Africa and Easter Europe which are too horrid even for me to go into.
(Mon 27th Apr 2009, 10:23, More)

» I'm your biggest Fan

Lift loonery
A few years back I took a job on the floor above the Oldie magazine in London. On the first day, I arrived by motorbike and got in the lift - still with my helmet on - to see Richard Ingrams, Editor and erstwhile top mate of Peter Cook. Having always been a massive fan of Cookie, I decided to use the 30 seconds we'd have together to ask him a truly sensational question about my hero. While I was thinking what to say, my helmet ever so slighlty banged against the lift door and I said - and it's painfil to write this even now - "dangerous things, motorbikes". Ingrams looked at me like the dangerous fruitloop I so clearly was. The next day a couple of the editorial staff caught me in the lift and I'm sure it was all one could do not to piss her knickers there and then. I was there for six cocking months and every single day in one way or another I was reminded of my slack-jawed twattery.
(Tue 21st Apr 2009, 10:25, More)