Porn, dogging, swingers, lesbian and silf.

Hello perverts, you have found this site by doing an msn search for your peculiar sexual practices.  You switched on your computer and thought ‘hmm what shall I play with myself about tonight.’  

Oh you think we don’t know?  Well, I am slightly retarded and so have only just realised that its possible to see who as visited your site and what they typed into ‘msn search’ in order to find it.  I am slow, so others probably knew it from the start and have been laughing for all of 30 seconds every day at how sad some people are.

Well now I know I’ve decided to provide all you finger shuffle fanatics with something to make you go a little limp.  This blog entry is going to contain not less than 5 sexual activities to get your interest in the search engine and now you are hear I’m going to take the piss and then offer you some practical help with your loneliness.   

Porn.  Seeking porn on the net is just totally inexcusable, you have a passion for watching people with prosthetic penis’s have sex.  I have no idea why some people get a kick out of this but I do know that there are hundreds of sex shops and mail order companies willing to sell you DVDs so why not stop being so tight and just go to the shops and pay for porn when you buy your tissues. 

Dogging.  I can sympathise with you people because I too find car parks and the countryside a little tedious and I can understand your wish to liven up the whole car park experience.  What I do find odd is that not content with having sex in your own car you actually want to have others watching you, you are both smug and egomaniacal about your own sexual performance or you were deprived of praise as a child. (What is dogging etiquette? Should one applaud after a performance or does it depend on quality of delivery? Or does one just zip up and leave?).  What I really don’t understand is why would anyone search for this on the internet surely that’s just net porn and not dogging or are they on their laptops in a car park somewhere… does that count as dogging or net porn? 

Swinging.  My home city of Sheffield as its very own swingers club.  Occasionally I have need to drive past, couples stood waiting for the doors to open look respectable enough and are just out for a bit of fun no doubt.  What puzzles me are all the fat lads at the back of the queue… is this your easiest method for loosing a bit of cream without it being from the wedge end of your cake?  How does swinging work on the internet? Do you swap webcams? Is it all unisex? And if so where are the genitals on my webcam?

Leathers.  Is it the smell? The way the material clings? The way it creeks? Or is it that you’ve always wanted to shag a cow and only have the courage for dead ones?  My only real problem with leather is that it is expensive and not really worth all the money for a quick shag, prostitutes I’m told are cheaper.  So whats the attraction on the net? You cant smell the leather, you cant hear it creek all you can do is watch it cling. Erm yep, clinging leather… fair point, carry on with your internet leather you lucky bastards. 

Silf.  Sheep I’d like to F**k.  Ah well what can I say about this… if you are 14 years old you will grow out of it.  If you are from Derbyshire it’s a matter of county pride that you do it right and raise many little half breeds in your village.

So there you are, 5 things to get the search engines spewing out my site.  If you are an internet pervert and you are upset about what this blog contains, please, please, please remember… I do not care you wan*er. 

If this blog turns you on in anyway then pay me.

Henry, do you have any Pimms?

So is this blog gonna be about poofy drinks or about Henry? It’s actually both, sort of. 

I‘ve been to many parties and hosted many too, I can guarantee none of these parties have been with stiff collars (the stiff party stories are not really for this site).  Rules of etiquette, culturalism and perceived self importance are the topic of this blog.

To start with, if an envelope arrives and it contains an embossed invitation reply straight away, tell them you have checked your diary and are to stay in that night to eat Pot Noodle and watch Eastenders.  Unless of course it’s your brothers wedding and he knows you haven’t got a TV.  Why do we need embossed invitations? Will we forget about the party if it’s written on normal paper, will embossed paper fit better in a diary? In this technological age are we to buy bobbled screen adapters to read email invitations? 

Rsvp, not reply! Some of you thought ‘rsvp tut’ when u read ‘reply’.  Well fetch a mirror and now you see who I’m aiming this tirade at.

The whole business of sending invitations annoys me.  It is all about appearances, are you so dull that you must entice people to your party with nice paper and pompous fonts? (Pompous fonts… did I ever, even in my most drunken moments, tell you that I was an Egyptologist specialising in Hyroglyphics?).  What do I need to know?  Who you are, time, date, venue, reason for party and that’s all. Can’t you just phone me? I can write it down and I won’t forget, promise. Erm ok, some of you know that’s not true but couldn’t you just email me or text me?  Most of the people who invite me to parties are people that I speak to on almost a daily basis anyway, you can just text me and then gently drop a reminder into conversation nearer the time. 

Back to the rsvp issue.  I’m not French, I do not speak the language, I don’t eat amphibian limbs or slugs with a crunchy topping and I’m not sexually aroused by burning sheep (I prefer em kicking n baa-ing).  So why rsvp? What clues did I give that leads you to believe rsvp is more appropriate than respond if you please or, more simply on the phone saying “are you coming” (If you hear baaaaaaaaaahaaahaahaa haaaaa in the background then most probably yes).

Once past the ridiculous invitation stage we are free to suffer the party itself.  I say suffer, my friends are the most lovely fun-loving and generally wonderful people you could ever wish to meet who throw great parties, sadly some of them know people who are so dull or so frighteningly odd that they want to invite strangers to their party… and annoyingly that’s sometimes me.  These are the parties I suffer least, because I rarely go… I simply decline their invitation in French, the only bit of French I know, the bit of French that I had translated purely for the purpose of declining rsvp.  It says ‘sorry I’m not able to attend due to a prior engagement’ (You see, I can be diplomatic) at least that’s what I was told it meant, it could mean ‘burn some more sheep before you shag that German.’ 

The parties I suffer most are those involving family or friends and organised in a bid to support a cause, the ones that I must attend to show solidarity with the people that I am close to, which rarely involves me supporting the cause or even caring that the ozone as a hole in it… my arse as an hole, its never done me any harm.

Black Tie – I have a navy blue one, will that do?  Evening dress – I’m quickly growing a wonderful pair of man tits but I have hairy legs and look a bit of a prick in a dress.  Casual – I consider tracky bottoms, t-shirt and trainers to be casual.  If you want to invite me to a party then do so but please don’t choose my clothes for me or I will reply to your invite requesting deep pile carpets and embossed wallpaper slightly thinner than the invitation. 

Ok, so setting the scene… The party is quite posh and is supporting a cause (I’m not telling you what, I didn’t want to go and I have no wish to advertise the fact that I had to). The people there are quite wealthy or highly paid or important.  I have no importance what so ever but my salary is far from minimum wage and I have a few quid besides… so I’m invited (if you have money those with more of it always want yours too, unusually for the party scene they want the £ and not the obsolete French Franc, which is a bit of a shitter because I’ve still got a few francs left from a holiday I had years ago). 

I mentioned the attendees are people who are well paid or wealthy and almost all of them the biggest cock heads you could meet.  I received my P60 tax certificate a few weeks ago but they forgot to send me the hand book that instructs people of disposable income how to be a complete bastard to anyone considered to be less affluent.  I do of course mean the waiting staff and the token young people, the ones there to help a parent or employer out of the stair lift. 

Please. It’s a lovely word and to a waiter is code for don’t piss in my drink, its also polite.  I personally prefer ‘please mate’ I’m not up my own arse but maybe a little unwilling to conform to the kind of etiquette that is usually displayed by mrs haughty and her enormous husband from the financial sector (there’s no way your fucking him for love, your not fooling anyone).  These are the people who are supposed to be examples of good manners and bred from good solid middle or upper class stock?  Bollocks.  You are the rudest and most self loving people I have ever met and I was embarrassed to be in your company.  That’s why I stayed at the bar talking to the staff and drinking vodka free from wee.

This party was brought back to the front of my mind whilst chatting to a friend who recently attended a similar party where he was treated as a slave and his sister letched on by mrs haughty’s husband… both are under 18 and treated with contempt by the people who should be setting a good example of how a civilised society functions, the people who shout loudest when teenagers display bad manners. 

My advice to my mate… next time piss in the drinks and tell your sister to shout ‘pervert’ every time greasy-lover comes near.

My advice to Art galleries… don’t hold fundraisers.  Sell a painting, you’ve got loads, just take one down and push the others up a bit. 

My advice to political parties… Save money on pointless parties and sit in a pub to tell people what you think, you’ll then find out what they think. (I hope the bleeding stops soon).

My advice to fundraisers who want to save the planet… Put some meat on the buffet and wash your clothes more often… wealthy people hate nothing more than smelling woodchoppers arm pits. While you are in the bathroom comb those lentils out of your beard. 

My advice to religious organisations… You need a new roof? A new mosque? I need a new case for my Ipod… life’s a bugger innit.  Don’t rattle your tin near me and don’t hold a reception for the council n lottery commission.  God created the earth? Well he can fix the bloody roof then.

So, that’s my rant on parties over with.  I shall in the near future be throwing a party.  I shall invite people by phone or email, you don’t have to reply just turn up… it’ll be lovely to see you, you can wear what u like, you won’t need your cheque book and I won’t piss in the drinks. 

I could have gone on forever and in even greater detail, but I thought I’d spare you the pain