Elated
after the conversation with the mysterious dark stranger I now
felt confident that one day I would venture to the tangible city of
Brumagem. I decided to take the stairs to my second floor maisonette
as the lifts, once again, were awash with assorted bodily fluids. On
gaining the second floor I spied the pulchritudinous and elfin form of
Edith 'Swan Neck.'
Edith: "Tell me Flaxen what is about me you find most attractive? Is
it my long graceful neck, my lustrous, flaming red hair or my milk
white, flawless skin? Tell me Flaxen, tell me.
Flaxen: "It's your tits."
Edith: "Is it because, although small, they are perfectly formed and yet pert."
Flaxen: "I like your tits."
Edith: "Well then Flaxen pray tell, what is it about that brazen hussy
Brynhildr which attracts you so? For her breasts are large, globular
and hang heavy upon her torso."
Flaxen: "I like her tits."
Edith: "Hmmf, but does she let you push a stick in her moist pudenda
for 2 groats, like I do?"
Flaxen: "No, she charges 1 groat."
Flaxen's mother: "Flaxen, stop conversing with that Jutish tart and
come in and have your tea. It's your favourite, fish finger and
chips."
Edith: "I will wait for you Flaxen. Don't forget your groats and stick."
The heady aroma of fish fingers assailed my nostrils and my thoughts
naturally turned to Edith's moist twat.
To be continued...
felt confident that one day I would venture to the tangible city of
Brumagem. I decided to take the stairs to my second floor maisonette
as the lifts, once again, were awash with assorted bodily fluids. On
gaining the second floor I spied the pulchritudinous and elfin form of
Edith 'Swan Neck.'
Edith: "Tell me Flaxen what is about me you find most attractive? Is
it my long graceful neck, my lustrous, flaming red hair or my milk
white, flawless skin? Tell me Flaxen, tell me.
Flaxen: "It's your tits."
Edith: "Is it because, although small, they are perfectly formed and yet pert."
Flaxen: "I like your tits."
Edith: "Well then Flaxen pray tell, what is it about that brazen hussy
Brynhildr which attracts you so? For her breasts are large, globular
and hang heavy upon her torso."
Flaxen: "I like her tits."
Edith: "Hmmf, but does she let you push a stick in her moist pudenda
for 2 groats, like I do?"
Flaxen: "No, she charges 1 groat."
Flaxen's mother: "Flaxen, stop conversing with that Jutish tart and
come in and have your tea. It's your favourite, fish finger and
chips."
Edith: "I will wait for you Flaxen. Don't forget your groats and stick."
The heady aroma of fish fingers assailed my nostrils and my thoughts
naturally turned to Edith's moist twat.
To be continued...
The word is spelt, teats, not tits! Well fuck me from behind with a an onomatopoeic chickadee, please to maintain at least a semblance of The Queen's.
ReplyDeleteAnd nobody of any substance dealt in Groats any more, the fuckers had long since been debased by the time of your saga. Ducats my friend! Ducats!
And pulchritudinous is a wanker's word.
ReplyDeleteDon't use it.
Tits is English/Jutish slang for teats. I did consider using 'breast's although in this case I thought it would spoil the squalid texture of the piece. You are absolutely right about 'pulchritudinous.'
ReplyDeleteAnd the word "Jutish" is slang for "itchy yeast infection".
ReplyDeleteAs in:
"Fuck, that wanker gave me the jutes again. I ain't sleeping with him any more."
Sorry, but I must correct you. You misspelled BURMA. An old gf of mine had a rampant candida infection which in due course found its way to my glans. Itched like hell. i did think about dipping my 'bell end' into my then current batch of home brewed beer, just to give the indigenous yeast a bit of help. O happy days.'
ReplyDeleteOld girlfriend?
ReplyDeleteNot a spouse in the throes of matrimony?
Pre-marital sex is a sin! You've made the baby jesus cry! Of course, not as much as I just did by not capitalising the first letter in his name.
And as for my alleged misspelling of the Motherland, fuck off you Brit-fuck. The sun has long since set on the empire and all the white man's burden shite is over. The Britishcritters gave us that name, Burma, and they can fuck off! And by the way, you've not lived until you've taken The Road To Mandalay Speaking of Barrack-Room Ballads, The Tutor posted the following on a "We're Going To War" forum back when The Canadas was sending her army men to the Land of the Afghans.
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Curiously, now that the war is over, the following verse is apropos:
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it's “Saviour of 'is country” when the guns begin to shoot.
The world has replaced 'Pax Britannica' with 'Pax Americana.' Hopefully I'll be long dead before we get to the 'Pax Sinica' stage.
DeleteDo you realise that Kipling was voted as the best poet by the Brits? Rather odd, don't you think? Because as a nation we read poetry, not at all.
DeleteMy uncle Charlie lost an eye, or was it his pinky finger fighting the dastardly Nips in Burma. They were even more cruel than the British. Still we got them in the end. I've still got ole Charlie's ear collection. They are tastefully placed on string. They are shriveled and amber coloured these days. I have thought about returning them but the original owners are past caring and have no further use for them.
ReplyDeleteEbay? Is there a market for grisly relics? Perhaps I could market them as originally belonging to saints such as mother Teresa- wadya think? Actually I've become quite attached to them, more so than their original owners. They made a great teething ring when Flaxen junior was but a nipper.
ReplyDeleteI am so pleased to see you two playing nicely in my absence. Somehow, it makes it all seem worthwhile...
ReplyDeleteToday is a lazy day. Our longboat is moored off some remote south western island the name of which I cannot even be bothered to remember. So far, I have been Gunatanamera'd only twice so, my cuddly Canadian friend, you are losing your wager. However, tomorrow we go to Havana so all is not yet lost.
eBay is a cunt. 'Nuff said.