Friday, June 27, 2008

Events in Italy

Time to reflect on a couple of Italian news stories. The first one is from Rome, celestial city of pizza-eaters, scooter-riders and bottom-pinchers. A man is jilted by his girlfriend and takes it very badly. Seething with resentment, he kidnaps the woman and brings her to his house. There, he forces her to perform domestic chores under his supervision, issuing dark threats to discourage her from shirking. Witnesses to the abduction inform the police, who arrest the man.

I expect the fellow will get a light sentence because he didn’t assault the woman, but she will surely testify that being compelled do his housework was no picnic. Although admittedly less traumatic than being violated, it must have been more humiliating. The man was effectively saying: “What I will miss most is not the sex, nor the visits to the beach, but the free maid-service.” He may argue that it was fair retribution for being spurned, but that sort of spiteful attitude should win him no sympathy. Forcing a woman to iron your shirts because you’re feeling shirty is not the conduct of a gentleman.


He would do well to learn from the example of my friend
Mr Louche, the heterosexual bachelor and debonair man-about-town, who by his own admission has been dumped by a succession of hot-headed females. Although I lack precise details of how he coped with these disappointments, I am quite sure that the thought of kidnapping anyone never entered his head. Knowing Louche, he probably invited his platonic girlfriends over for cocktails and allowed them to fuss over him like a gaggle of mother hens. Were he to meet one of his ex-paramours by chance, I am certain he would do nothing worse than agree with them about his own shortcomings as a boyfriend. Perhaps Louche should consider holding etiquette classes for the likes of the Italian abductor.

The second, more uplifting piece of news is that the Bishop of Cesena
has forgiven a couple for having sex in his confessional box during morning mass. It’s always inspiring to see holy men practising the true tenets of their faith. The Catholic clergy, after all, are in no position to cast the seventy-seventh stone let alone the first one. And while the church should never encourage fornication, I can’t imagine a better place for it than the very spot in which the faithful confess their sins. It makes sense for people to get it off their chests at the earliest opportunity rather than letting their guilty consciences fester. Perhaps the couple were actually confessing while they were sinning to free up valuable box-time for more serious offenders.

I hope you’ve appreciated the moral lessons in these stories – let us pray that all the actors receive fitting epilogues. May the vindictive Italian boyfriend be assigned laundry duties in an open prison and learn what it’s like to be a domestic drudge. May the woman he treated like a peon have a hot date with Louche, grasping his manly chest tightly as they whiz through the Devon countryside on a 140-horsepower motorbike. May the insatiable lovers continue to experiment with debauchery in confined spaces, perhaps with the aid of an oak wardrobe packed with silk shirts and fur coats. And may the Bishop of Cesena be appointed Pope so he can legalise the making of whoopee and other harmless pastimes for a billion guilty Catholics. Amen.

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Comments:
Dear Mr Ape, your post interests me strangely, embracing as it does the two subjects dearest to my heart: correct staffing levels and the Old Faith. This young Italian was obviously reacting to a lack of domestic help in his home, probably instituted by his tiresome old mother, who is likely to use the tumble drier instead of ironing. No wonder this high-spirited lad had to resort to kidnap. When will young people learn that there is no shame in keeping a FULL staff at all times? If a home is to be a well-oiled machine, the labouring classes must be its lubricant.

Secondly, I am a pre-Vatican II Catholic and, as such, I scorn your thinly veiled attack on Bishop Lanfranchi of Cesena. He has absolved the miscreants of their wrongdoing, and probably had the Confessional thoroughly cleansed by a member of his domestic staff. The Catholic clergy have always availed themselves of ancillary staff, and it is an object lesson to us all. Cordially etc
 
Mrs. Pouncer brings up an interesting point.

Perhaps the confessional was cleaned by a kidnapped girlfriend.....

(Cow quickly checking on the status of those who iron her Topiary: nope. No exes)

Moo!
 
Honestly, you find the most amazing stuff. I've been reading about Obama distancing himself from American Muslims, and the recent stock market plunge, and I come here and find this. I need to change newspapers.

I like the fitting punishment/ reward you have imagined for the kidnapper and his ex. And the bishop pardoning that amorous couple was smart: at least they're church-goers. You can't afford to alienate them.
 
He has a very queenly wave.
 
Pah! Do not begin to get me started on Italians, my friend!

Ah, well. When in Rome, and so on.
 
You clearly have a full understanding of the female mind. I think this Italian may well be charged with Greivous Domestic Harm.
 
Owning and riding upon a 140 horsepower motorcycle can be a different high altogether...girlfriend or no girlfriend...

:D
 
The poor woman must have had a will of iron not to crumple before such abuse.
 
Mrs Pouncer: My dear lady, I esteem the Bishop of Cesena greatly, which is why I suggested him for Pope. May God bless him and his forgiving ways. I have nothing against Italians hiring domestic staff, but forcing people do it unpaid is a return to serfdom.

Ms Cow: The couple created the mess, so I hope they had the good manners to clean it up rather than leaving it for the girl. She had been through enough.

Mary: Yes, the newspapers often miss important stories, so I like to fill the gap in the market. I hope the couple will donate generously after all the church has done for them.

Ms Ubermouth: I think that queens actually copied the mannerisms of the clergy to make themselves more respectable in less enlightened times.

Lord Likely: M'lud, the Italians will bow down before you when they realise what you are capable of!

Mosha: I would advise him to plead guilty and ask the woman for forgiveness.

Sidhu: I should imagine it's a double high with a woman clutching your midriff.

Kyknoord: Hah, I might have guessed where your sympathies would lie!
 
Mrs. Pouncer is spot-on about staffing levels, but she misses the main point in the Cesena story, which is the non-involvement of altar boys. (And why altar boys? Aren't ordinary boys good enough?) If the Church is acquiring a forgiving attitude towards heterosexual congress (thank you, Dr. Maroon, for reviving a fine word) between adults it is to be congratulated. About 2,000 years late, but congratulated nevertheless.
 
Gosh, those lovers got lucky - a Bishop willing to turn the other cheek is not to be taken for granted. I'll wager they kneeled abreast before him, seeking forgiveness.

Having said that, a confession box is surely worthy of higher point-scoring than the passé mile high club?

Although an emancipated female, I'm afraid I laughed at the story of the man kidnapping his girlfriend and making her do his washing and ironing. It says so much about the man concerned, and none of it good.

x
 
I clichéd over and visited Mr. Louche and found that he and I have similar life styles. As for kidnapping a female to perform cleaning, I believe that the Italian must be crazy—or lazy.

Not being of the Roman Church’s persuasion, I see no problem with have a sexual encounter in a confessional—except, perhaps, that communicating spot through with a voyeur priest could observe the show. Of course, if one is an exhibitionist…
 
I find my smalls are only ironed acceptably when done by a young barechested Filipino boy. If anyone knows where I can find one ....
 
What strange and hilarious bits of news you always seem to find, gorilla! :-) I best liked the story of the man forcing his gf to do household chores; really, after an incident like that, I'd like to get my own back, and do the same to him...
 
Now there was a downside to the Reformation that I hadn't thought of: not having a confessional in which to snatch a quickie.

Cheers.
 
The kidnapper deserves a thoroughly good ironing of his most wrinkly bits.
 
Inkspot: You're not going to please Mrs Pouncer by talking about altar boys, she got annoyed enough when I mentioned the casting of stones. You have to deal with these issues tactfully.

Kitty: I think the bishop has a secret liking for emancipated women, whereas the kidnapper likes to watch them toil under beneath his whip.

Saintly Nick: Mr Louche is currently suffering from flu, so he may not be able to respond to your greetings. It's possible the kidnapper was crazy, or just enjoyed humiliating the woman who dumped him.

Lady Daphne: I believe they can be rented if you pay their air fare. There is probably also a local service in Brussels. A tumble drier might be cheaper though.

Eve: Hah! Well maybe when you're a successful doctor you'll have men queuing up to do your domestic chores.

Randall: It's not to late to return to the old faith, Randall. So many people are doing it these days.

Sam: That's quite a difficult operation to perform without squashing things.
 
I'm married to an authentic Italian woman and to me it seems this story was a bit misconstrued. Obviously this gentleman was sympathetic to his woman’s needs. Feeling obligated to have her understand that leaving him would deny her these simple pleasures of their relationship, which she would surely miss. Let me tell you about Italian women (wait! … shhhhhhh! … she’s calling for me from upstairs! … excuse me a sec …) ”Yes honey, I’m just changing the vacuum cleaner bag, that’s why you don’t hear it. I’ll be up to help with the lasagna in a few minutes.” … Okay, that was close, now where was I …
 
Mr Sherman need not worry about the lack of a confessional in a post-reformation place of worship. (I hesitate to use the word, protestant, as we here in the Anglican communion ae - strictly speaking - Catholics, just not Roman Catholics.) Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, you would be surprised what kind of jiggery-pokery goes on in the vestry, or a side-chapel, cloister garden, song-school, sacristy etc.
 
Dear Mr Ape, Mr Canbass should never hesitate to use the word Protestant. I use it frequently, even when uncalled for, and often inaccurately. Cordially etc
 
PS (for Mrs Wayne-Bough): We have a jolly little Filipino laddie singing alto. Will he do?
 
Mr Bananas.

Which appeals to you more?

a) Doing domestic chores and thinking about sex.

b) Having sex and thinking about domestic chores.

I happen to think they work out about evens.
 
What-Ho Mr Gorilla! How the dickens are you?

I've still got this blasted illness but I've now started on the port and it's making the whole experience much less trying.

What do you Gorillas make of ironing? Does your fur require attention before you go on a hot date with a lady friend?
 
I'm afraid that woman who was kidnapped and held hostage at an ironing board had it coming. She spoilt him rotten with her hospital corners and obsession with hoovering.

Because the thought to me of doing any boyfriend's housework, well, it makes my head spin. Why would I? You might do some housework when married but even that would be 50/50.
 
Can I just add that of the two Acolytes carrying the baldachin, one looks like Graham "Fat Boy"Moffat, and the other like The Thin White Duke. Cordially etc
 
Joe: Welcome, Sir. Italian wives are dangerous creatures, as Roger Moore discovered. You were wise to dissemble to your own.

Can Bass: Being Catholic without being Roman is a feat that only Anglicans could pull off. A bit of jiggery may be unavoidable, but pokery is definitely going too far.

Mrs Pouncer: Your knowledge of show business cognomens is encyclopaedic, ma'am.

Norman: For gorillas, the answer is (b). Thinking about sex in the jungle leaves you dangerously vulnerable.

Louche: I'm glad the port has been helpful, but do get plenty of rest as well. I will admit to combing my chest hairs before a date, but ironing has never been necessary. I trust the lady in the picture is your type.

Emma: Girls who won't do a man's housework don't get boyfriends in Italy. Italian mothers create expectations in their sons.
 
"Forgive me Father, for.. uh, hold on... Oh, yeah, baby, right there!... I have sinned."
 
Mr Bananas, as always, I leave your posts feeling enlightened, believing we have a lot to learn from the kingdom of the ape.
 
Mr Gorilla Bananas, I heartily concur with Ms Papercuts above. How I wish you were in charge of things, especially those pointless meetings so beloved of directors keen to claim their attendance allowances. You should be raised among the highest in the land!
I have printed off your picture, the ironing one, as a guide for Mrs Maroon as to how she should look while “doing the domestics”.
 
Dear Go. B., thank you for your gentle reminder of Mrs. Pouncer's sensibilities. I shall stick to ordinary boys in future. And Ms. Bruni; not only is she a firm-bottomed knockout, she demonstrates that she knows the importance of teeth-flossing.
 
Gorilla - It reminded me of Operation Go To Italy, which needs organising.
 
Well, maybe it's just as likely that if he were to have left her, and she were to kidnap him, she would make him sit around and watch TV in his pants rather than force him to perform sexual acts.
 
I can't imagine a more appropriate fate for this Italian in gaol, especially as he will be expected to provide the other personal services to Ronaldo Il Grande etc anyway.

The bishop would be well-advised to install video recording equipment in his confessionals, assuming they don't come ready-equipped "for training purposes". He could then name and shame the next set of courting couples on the Intern Net, or at least sell the recordings. The Church is always in need of funds.
 
I knew I was getting old when I saw a TV programme including a piece on a company that provides a naked maid service and realised that the idea of getting somebody else to do the housework was more attractive than the naked lady.
 
Baba Doodlius: You sound as if you've had practice at this.

Papercuts: Why thank you, Miss, you're welcome to further your studies in my kingdom.

Dr Maroon: Thank you Dr, I'm glad you noticed Miss Papercuts, your fellow Scot. A few weeks ago we were on first name terms, but now it's Miss Papercuts. That's women for you. Speaking of which, be careful with Mrs Maroon, she might think your criticising her ironing.

Inkspot: I'm not telling you what to do in your private life, just be discreet in front of Mrs Pouncer. Ms Bruni, on the other hand, might be interested to hear what's on your mind.

Louche: Ah yes, I remember. I hope I've sharpened your appetite.

Mosha: Now that's a bizarre thing to imagine. At gunpoint, one presumes.

Mr Boyo: Funnily enough, the Brazilian Ronaldo was recently tricked by some transsexual prostitutes. The bishop obviously needs an ideas man to avoid missing these business opportunities.

Kevin: Naked ladies may not be at their best when they're hoovering the carpet. Failure to fantasise about them sexually might be more common than you think.
 
Mr Bananas, I spent ages typing out a reply but blogger ate my comment. :(

I shall try again.

Rest assured, my recent name change is not an effort to withdraw affection from everyone's favourite ape. Rather, it is an attempt on my part to protect my anonymity, such as it is.

When one as blonde and stunning as I eventually publishes her naughty novel, a veil of aliases are called for.

One wouldn't want a stalker, weirdo or ex-boyfriend (or possibly all three in one mentally-subnormal package) connecting the dots and trailing me from blog to real life to bonkbuster, would one?

I hope this comment is successfully published. If not, I take it as a sign from the gods.

Quite what that sign would be, I do not know.
 
I was getting so excited about the idea of fornicating in the confession booth, that I actually started considering entering a church to look for one. But then you wrote, "May the insatiable lovers continue to experiment with debauchery in confined spaces, perhaps with the aid of an oak wardrobe packed with silk shirts and fur coats." That sounds ever so much more exotic, so I will now look for a new BF, who may have a piece of furniture with those features. Thank you for all your excellent ideas!
 
Gosh, people still do ironing, do they? I don't remember the last time I ironed anything other than skis (well, you call that waxing not ironing).

confession box sex sounds like a lot of fun. I remember as a young thing I used to try and have sex in as many different places as I could (well, not I as such - I did usually find someone to do it with) but I never thought of the confession box. Must try it. Not sure the Bishop would be as forgiving in my case?

Fun stories, fun punishments.
 
Almodovar could turn this into a movie.
 
Dear Mr Ape, I really do wonder if some of your correspondents have ever seen a confessional box? Certainly in recent years, and particularly in this country, the pestilential system of substituting a so-called Reconciliation Mass for individual confession has taken over, leaving Confessional cubicles redundant. Some have been converted into lavatories for the infirm, some into storage spaces and there is one well-known and ancient parish wherein the Confessional is now a dog kennel.

Your more excitable readers, such as Reluctant Blogger and Madame Z, appear to believe they would enter into some divine chamber of comfort and arousal. I have to say that they are more likely to be pressed up against a teetering pile of back issues of the Tablet and some old cassocks.

I feel that in the spirit of ecumenical enlightenment I will visit Madame Z's page and leave a short history of Absolution for her perusal. Cordially etc
 
Or maybe not.
 
I was afraid you might say b).

My missus makes out her shopping list after we've had sex.
 
Thankyou for your example Mr Ape, I feel that I can now see clearly through the immoral debris.
 
I've only just recalled Jake Thackeray's "Isabel Makes Love Upon National Monuments," which is my bad. I can't help thinking that it could serve as backing music to the commentary for this post.
 
Papercuts: Ah, I understand, you're keeping a low profile to avoid attracting hyenas, jackals and rutting wildebeest. You have good jungle instincts for a human, Miss Papercuts.

Madam Z: I was under the impression that you were a happily married woman, Madam Z. Good luck in your quest and make sure the furs in the wardrobe are synthetic.

Ms Reluctant: Italian men don't wear drip dry shirts, so ironing is an unavoidable part of their girlfriends' lives. The wardrobe might be an easier option than the confessional box.

Clea: Each of these stories could be a 15-minute scene in one of his movies.

Mrs Pouncer: I am sad to hear that they've fallen into such disrepair. Perhaps you might start a collection to have them renovated in the style of the Turkish harem.

Norman: Women are supposed to be good at multi-tasking.

Citizen Boudica: Thank you, Ms Boudica, and welcome to the congregation. I am not claiming to be a holy ape, saving my own soul is very much a full-time job.

Kevin: That a very long-title describing a very meretricious act.
 
i would have gladly done the chores...there are ways to make people suffer by cleaning with special products...i would have even made some special drinks for the man...i guess i don't see cleaning as degrading but more like revenge...when i want it to be...
 
You know what they say, when in my Rome...

I can't say being in the city inspired me to take up kinky sex in a confessional though, but there's always next time.
 
Time to reflect on a couple of Italian news stories.

That's about 3:00pm on a daily basis for me. Ironing isn't hot unless it's done nekkid.
 
GB, you are correct...I AM happily married. My fantasies are as sythetic as the furs in my closet.
 
Daisy: And you could have cut the crotches out of his trousers as well.

Rosanna: Go for it next time you're there, hon.

Kara: Be careful you don't burn your tush.

Madam Z: Synthetic or not, I hope they spice your marriage.
 
gorilla...depends on how well hung he is to be honest...no need to show off a good thing...but a little sprout could prove adventurous...
 
Forcing a woman to iron your shirts because you’re feeling shirty is not the conduct of a gentleman. ?

Well then what about raping her? It sounds like he didn't go that far into ungentlemanliness... I'm just as surprised that's actually a word.

Sounds to me like he was a lazy bastard who was too used to his mother taking care of him, and he couldn't get a woman the NORMAL way, so in his crazy brain he thought he'd club one over the head and drag her back to his lair and all would be fine.

HA!

Guess that'll learn him.
 
I agree that his mother is partly to blame for this.
 
LOL!!! Mr Bananas u are absolutely hillarious! You should sooooo send this to the pope :p
 
Thanks Saby. I'd like to have the pope's ear but I think he's busy de-waxing it.
 
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