Tag Archives: funny

May 8 2012

Trim That Bush!

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You have to admire the artistic vision of the graffiti artist responsible for the above design, found on a wall in an upmarket residential area of North London. Who’d have imagined that a few hanging leaves would inspire such an X-rated result! It’s hilarious … though I doubt all the local residents will agree! I wonder if this will inspire them to trim the offending bush ;-) I can’t wait for the news headline: “RARE URBAN BEAVER KILLED BY LOCALS”…

Jan 15 2011

Why Wearing Spandex Can Be Sexy If You’re A Bloke…

You can buy your man these Spandex "Hot Shorts" from http://gb.ioffer.com

Let’s face it, every heterosexual girl and every homosexual bloke wants the same thing… a good man who exudes enough chemistry to make you want to rip all your clothes off and sit on his face lap. Add to that a certain charm, bravery and courage, and you’ve suddenly got the perfect guy. Or have you? What if I was to tell you that you need some spandex as well? Confused? Keep reading…

Several years ago, during the course of my work as a PR girl, I came face-to-face with a buff bloke in a red lycra suit, black spankies and a hair-do so quaffed, it wouldn’t move a millimetre in a category five hurricane. I fancied the [shiny] pants off him. Yup, ‘superhero’ Major Victory – his description, not mine – was very delectable indeed. I was so aroused, I spent a full bank holiday weekend locked indoors watching him cavort on the SCI FI channel (as it was then called) in the most bizarre reality TV show – ever. It was the brain child of comic book legend Stan Lee (which explained a lot!).

Suddenly, that old Bonnie Tyler track seemed almost phrophetic: ‘I need a hero / I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night / he’s gotta be strong / and he’s gotta be fast / and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight.’ ‘Hell yeah’, I thought. ‘That’s what I’m talking about. Bring on the heroes and let them be super. There’s nothing noncy about a man in tights.’ Unless they haven’t been washed first… but that’s a whole other blog.

If you think about it, a superhero kit is nothing more than a uniform, but with a lot more stretch and colour. It’s like looking at your wife in her kinky Ann Summers get up… she puts it on, she takes on a sexy persona and – pow! – a slut is born. It’s the same principle for men wearing lycra. They put it on, do a few stretches, run round the block and a [super] hero emerges. But are we really ready for them?

Superheroes are bold, brave, selfless, sexy, courageous and morally incorruptible. And covered in spandex. Yet, I thought there was nothing remotely attractive about a Fathers For Justice protester clad in a Batman cossie who dominated the news in the same year I met the luscious ‘Major Victory’. So what if he was scaling a building while police helicopters did a loop-the-loop right by his head? In theory, we should have broken out in a hot flush and started gagging for the guy’s number. Instead, most of us frowned sympathetically and thought no more about it.

Modern society just isn’t ready for any superheroes… If I was standing at the bus stop and a man clad head-to-toe in blue lycra suddenly offered me a ‘lift’ with his miraculous power of flight, what would I do? Threaten to headbutt the deviant freak and tell him to clear off, thinking all the while of how ashamed his mother must be. Perverted loser. Harsh, I know, but in this day and age, we’re surrounded by nutters and weirdos… even if the aforementioned freak turned out to be truthful and suddenly shot up into the sky, I’d still be looking around for David Blaine and a camera crew. Worse still, I might run like an Olympic athlete towards the nearest police station, sounding certifiable with my tales of a flying man in Spandex. And then I’d be the one labelled as ‘Loser’.

Really, the only way it’d be cool to fancy a man in fancy dress is if the media embrace him, build him up into the nation’s saviour and he becomes a celebrity. After all, it’s acceptable to lust after an icon – even one in spandex – without people thinking you’re some twisted cow who needs to get out more. Even his mother suddenly feels proud. He sells his story in a multi-million pound book deal, a film is made about his life, he bags a supermodel girlfriend with more bones jutting out than a mass grave genocide pit and he’s completely unattainable to an average girl like me. Yes! That’s the key. It’s the fantasy that’s alluring, not the reality. I like the idea of being with a superhero. I’m just not sure I’d like the reality. It’s the dream of having someone kind and brave and gifted and über-strong for a lover that triggers the tingling session in my spine and other areas.

By remaining a dream, I’ll never be disappointed. There’s no real-life hero who turns out to be a twat when you meet him. There’s just imagination, hope and desire. You can hear it in Bonnie Tyler’s voice as she wistfully belts out: “Where have all good men gone? / And where are all the gods? / Where’s the street-wise Hercules / To fight the rising odds?” He’s probably around here somewhere, but too scared of aggressive female bloggers to ever make himself known…

Jan 12 2011

Recipe For Rude Food (Not to be read by under-age kids)

Just when you think you’ve seen it all in the kitchen – like the foreign recipes for guinea pig, dog, elk and emu – along comes someone who has to take it one step further and cook up something completely unecessary.

Why, oh why, do we really need the rude recipes found here?

If you stop to read the entries in the comments box at the end of the recipes, you’ll probably never dare to eat out ever again. Bob T. Wibble, I hope I am never invited to one of your dinner parties… though I dare say you’d be more than eagar to come if you were invited to one of mine. Sigh.

Feb 16 2010

Romance & Relationships – 10th January, 2007

Your man says that you’re getting fat. What do you say? I say, “Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to weigh myself. I’m just waiting for the right man’s face to sit on.” Offensive? So I’ve been told…

Your man takes you out to dinner (great, he’s over the whole weight gain worry) but he orders a vegetarian salad for you (strike the previous thought). Do you politely eat the salad and feel tearful cuz it doesn’t even have any croutons? I say: “Honey, no-one gained energy by eating a few lettuce leaves decorated with a tomato. How do you expect me to go home with you, strip seductively to my undies, suck you off like a hydraulic doll, bend my body like a contortionist and then bounce on your lap like an Olympic Athlete?”  Fact: men getting women to eat salad only provides sufficient energy for a man to have to use his own hand when he takes his missus home from the restaurant.

Your man buys you a surprise gift… Diet pills. And they were expensive. Do you seethe silently cuz he didn’t spend the money on shoes or jewellery instead? No. You graciously accept and then grind several laxatives into his daily breakfast. If you give shit, you should get shit.