Monday, January 30, 2006
Diary of an Agony Uncle
A lot of humans seem to believe that a talking gorilla must be wise or have magical powers. I don’t know why. The world is full of talking humans who are complete arse-heads. Yet when I was in the circus, my hairless friends often came to me with their personal problems. For some odd reason, they found discussing these things with a gorilla much less embarrassing than seeing a priest or a doctor.
One such person was Ranjit Ram, the popular Indian knife-thrower, who had a wife and four children in Bangalore. Our touring schedule meant that he was away from his family for long periods, which was hard on him. He did have a few extramarital affairs, it’s true, but this was out of loneliness rather than sexual obsession. He was certainly very happy when he had saved enough cash to settle his wife and children in England, where he could spend more time with them. He came to see me the day after they arrived.
“Gorilla Sahib,” he said, “today my wife told me she has been pregnant for three months.”
“Congratulations,” I replied.
“No, this news is not good,” he said glumly, shaking his head. “How is she pregnant when we have not striven together for six months?”
“But didn’t you see her in India three months ago?” I asked.
“True I was there, but I could not perform the conjugals because of a fever,” he replied. “And when I recovered she was in her monthly defilement. I tell you I left before we could do anything.”
I scratched my hairy chest in contemplation. A wife carrying the child of another man is a serious vexation at the best of times. But looking at things objectively, why should one regrettable incident ruin an otherwise happy marriage? I had to find a way of making Ranjit see that the tiffin-carrier was, in a sense, half full – and that its contents should not be emptied into the Ganges.
“The four children she has already produced are surely yours,” I said, keeping my fingers crossed that he would agree.
“They each resemble me closely,” he said with a wistful smile. “Yes, I am in no doubt they are the issue of my loins.”
“Then the statistics are heavily in your favour,” I asserted. “In England, any football team playing at home would be delighted with a score of 4-1.”
Ranjit frowned at this analogy. “Marriage is not like a game of sport, Gorilla Sahib,” he said, shaking his head. “A wife should be beyond reproach in her fidelity.”
“But have you always been faithful?” I countered, knowing full well that he hadn’t.
Ranjit lowered his eyes and bit his lip. “I have also wandered from the narrow path,” he sighed, “so what to do?”
“Why not forgive her and accept the child as your own?” I suggested. “For all you know, another man is already doing the same for your child. Think of what has happened as a fulfilment of the law of karma – a destiny to be accepted with patience and understanding.”
I threw in this mystical stuff in the hope that it would resonate with his upbringing, and I could see from his thoughtful face that my argument was highly persuasive. But just when I thought I‘d swayed him, he shook his head and stamped his foot.
“But there is a difference!” he exclaimed in frustration. “That which she does not know cannot shame her. But her infidelity is totally brazen! I cannot pretend to be unaware!”
“Tell her you know then,” I countered. “Let her wallow in her shame and eat the bitter fruit of contrition!”
“But if I tell her, I must also punish her,” he insisted. “She must be chastised for doing hanky-panky with some bugger!”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked in genuine curiosity.
“I am thinking that before we have marital relations – every time I give her four-five good whacks on her backside with the slipper.”
I considered his suggestion with an open mind. There is a school of thought which asserts that a man should never be encouraged to beat his wife. I generally agree with this position. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like a big price for a woman to pay to save her marriage. In time, she might even get to enjoy it. After weighing the conflicting arguments, I decided to give the idea my conditional blessing.
“The slipper is for the children,” I declared. “A man should only ever beat his wife’s buttocks with a flat hand.”
Ranjit nodded gravely: “You are right, Gorilla Sahib – a slap on the bum it shall be!”
One such person was Ranjit Ram, the popular Indian knife-thrower, who had a wife and four children in Bangalore. Our touring schedule meant that he was away from his family for long periods, which was hard on him. He did have a few extramarital affairs, it’s true, but this was out of loneliness rather than sexual obsession. He was certainly very happy when he had saved enough cash to settle his wife and children in England, where he could spend more time with them. He came to see me the day after they arrived.
“Gorilla Sahib,” he said, “today my wife told me she has been pregnant for three months.”
“Congratulations,” I replied.
“No, this news is not good,” he said glumly, shaking his head. “How is she pregnant when we have not striven together for six months?”
“But didn’t you see her in India three months ago?” I asked.
“True I was there, but I could not perform the conjugals because of a fever,” he replied. “And when I recovered she was in her monthly defilement. I tell you I left before we could do anything.”
I scratched my hairy chest in contemplation. A wife carrying the child of another man is a serious vexation at the best of times. But looking at things objectively, why should one regrettable incident ruin an otherwise happy marriage? I had to find a way of making Ranjit see that the tiffin-carrier was, in a sense, half full – and that its contents should not be emptied into the Ganges.
“The four children she has already produced are surely yours,” I said, keeping my fingers crossed that he would agree.
“They each resemble me closely,” he said with a wistful smile. “Yes, I am in no doubt they are the issue of my loins.”
“Then the statistics are heavily in your favour,” I asserted. “In England, any football team playing at home would be delighted with a score of 4-1.”
Ranjit frowned at this analogy. “Marriage is not like a game of sport, Gorilla Sahib,” he said, shaking his head. “A wife should be beyond reproach in her fidelity.”
“But have you always been faithful?” I countered, knowing full well that he hadn’t.
Ranjit lowered his eyes and bit his lip. “I have also wandered from the narrow path,” he sighed, “so what to do?”
“Why not forgive her and accept the child as your own?” I suggested. “For all you know, another man is already doing the same for your child. Think of what has happened as a fulfilment of the law of karma – a destiny to be accepted with patience and understanding.”
I threw in this mystical stuff in the hope that it would resonate with his upbringing, and I could see from his thoughtful face that my argument was highly persuasive. But just when I thought I‘d swayed him, he shook his head and stamped his foot.
“But there is a difference!” he exclaimed in frustration. “That which she does not know cannot shame her. But her infidelity is totally brazen! I cannot pretend to be unaware!”
“Tell her you know then,” I countered. “Let her wallow in her shame and eat the bitter fruit of contrition!”
“But if I tell her, I must also punish her,” he insisted. “She must be chastised for doing hanky-panky with some bugger!”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked in genuine curiosity.
“I am thinking that before we have marital relations – every time I give her four-five good whacks on her backside with the slipper.”
I considered his suggestion with an open mind. There is a school of thought which asserts that a man should never be encouraged to beat his wife. I generally agree with this position. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like a big price for a woman to pay to save her marriage. In time, she might even get to enjoy it. After weighing the conflicting arguments, I decided to give the idea my conditional blessing.
“The slipper is for the children,” I declared. “A man should only ever beat his wife’s buttocks with a flat hand.”
Ranjit nodded gravely: “You are right, Gorilla Sahib – a slap on the bum it shall be!”
Comments:
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A woman who doesn't like having her bum slapped during sex isn't a real woman in my book.
# posted by 
: Monday, January 30, 2006
: Monday, January 30, 2006
Couldn't agree with you more Beth. But it needs to be more of a whip with the fingers than a slap with the full hand. It's all in the wrist action.
Someone posted this on the Indian newsgroup. Too funny!!!
Ramesh
Ramesh
# posted by : Monday, January 30, 2006
: Monday, January 30, 2006
I'm glad you wrote "inspiring", Ivan, because I was hoping to inspire people to try out a few things. Looks like I'm preaching to the converted with Beth and Tarzan.
Silly me! I thought you were prodding your readers to give Eastern wisdom a try.
But what should the punishment be for a man whose extra-marital frolicking becomes known to the wife?
--Desargues
But what should the punishment be for a man whose extra-marital frolicking becomes known to the wife?
--Desargues
# posted by : Monday, January 30, 2006
: Monday, January 30, 2006
I shouldn't really have to point this out, Bananas, but an assault cannnot be made lawful by carrying it out with a hand rather than a slipper. Maybe if he gave Tarzan or Buxom Beth a slap before he had sex with his wife honour could be satisfied on all sides.
ahh GB, ever the philanthropist, you are, ever the philanthropist. But you see, that young man is headed for far worse than a meeting with Zelda. Nay, this young bugger seeks to punish his wife for a crime which he himself has committed, AND is hiding that fact from his dearly beloved. His punishment will be so much the worse, for any man who hasn't the cajones to stand up and admit his wrong-doing (ESPECIALLY after his wife admitted hers) deserves the life of a unich ~ with the useless things strung about his neck, as ever a reminder that to commit such cojone-less acts indeed is the very reason he is without his. A man should use his cajones wisely, and it is NEVER wise to anger a woman so unjustly and cojone-lessly!
Slapping, it has its place, but both parties better be of the same opinion, otherwise, as Miss Red says, there could be serious implications and indeed harm done.
GB, I have produced my first ever real blog today, do please feel free to drop on by.
GB, I have produced my first ever real blog today, do please feel free to drop on by.
Yes, Ms Redhead and Ms Cat, you are right. Mr Ram and his wife should have agreed to spank each other for their sins.
Glad to see you've got started, FMC.
Glad to see you've got started, FMC.
I must be very straight laced, but I’ve never been attracted to spanking anyone. Ms Redhead’s right! What’s sauce for the goose…on the other hand, what they don’t know, they dinna ken! Have you been in India Mr G Bananas? I only ask because you mentioned tiffin boxes and carriers. A big country, but for all it’s beautiful parts, the pervading squalor is indescribable and in lots of ways, unnecessary.
I did more than mention tiffin carriers, Dr Maroon. Mr Ram's Indian-style English amused at least one subscriber to an Indian newsgroup.
I've not been to India, but I've been fairly close to it in several different ways. Re spanking, I think it may be one of those things that give the receiver more pleasure than the giver if it's done in the right way. If I had more guts, I'd ask Buxom Beth.
I've not been to India, but I've been fairly close to it in several different ways. Re spanking, I think it may be one of those things that give the receiver more pleasure than the giver if it's done in the right way. If I had more guts, I'd ask Buxom Beth.
I'm doing well today amn't I? I seem to have the unerring ability to insult people without trying. An ill-thought opinion, careless judgements. Don't know what it is. I assure you it's not me. My Regards to you Mr G.
That's OK Dr M, I wasn't insulted. You don't find too many people who speak like Mr Ram in England these days, probably even fewer in Scotland.
God Bananas, took me ages to get my man to spank me right. Are you saying all I had to do was sleep with someone else?
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