Wednesday, June 01, 2016

Penile poetry

A man in Burma has been sentenced to six months in prison for having an insulting poem about the country’s president tattooed on his penis. It’s a form of political dissent that might have been invented by the Marquis de Sade. Or possibly a baboon. Had I been the defence counsel, I would have argued that the words inscribed on a man’s todger are his own private affair. A malcontent who genuinely wanted to insult the president would have penned a letter rather than expressing his disapproval in a place that few would venture for light reading. I doubt even the man’s wife would have paused to admire her husband’s verse while attending to other duties. It’s the kind of service that only a call girl would provide, and expect to be generously tipped for.

Given the inaccessible location of the incriminating evidence, I’d like to know how the Burmese police found out about it. The most likely snitch would have been the tattooist, who might have given the police an anonymous tip-off to avoid getting nabbed as an accessory. I pity the policeman who had the job of checking that the words were defamatory. It’s not a form of investigation that falls within the normal definition of police work, and I hope the judge allowed him to testify from behind a screen. No one wants to be known as the official cock inspector.

It seems that free speech is under attack all over the world. A German comedian recently got into hot water for suggesting that the Turkish president was romantically involved with a goat. Would you believe he is now being prosecuted under an ancient German law that prohibits insulting a foreign head of state?

A British journalist has responded to this outrage by holding a competition to compose the most obscene limerick about the Turkish president. It’s a bold act of defiance, but I’m not convinced that human poets are savvy enough to imagine anything more lurid than goat-love. They should first spend a few months in Africa observing the hyenas and baboons to get their creating juices working.

If you’re thinking of entering the competition, I regret to inform you that the prize of one thousand pounds sterling has already been won. As if to prove my point, the winning entry elaborated on the goat theme. I reproduce it below in its full and uncensored version:

There was a young fellow from Ankara
Who was a terrific wankerer.
Till he sowed his wild oats
With the help of a goat
But he didn’t even stop to thankera.

The most amazing thing about this limerick is that the man who composed it might well be the next prime minister of the United Kingdom. I wonder what will happen if, at some future date, he has to host the Turkish president on an official state visit. Fortunately the British don’t serve goat at their state banquets, although many of their senior politicians are good at making bleating noises, which may test the limits of the Turkish president’s patience. 

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On his penis? Now that's hard core!
He tattooed a poem on his penis? Just how long was his penis to fit it, and a shame I can't read braille.
Someone making a joke about a goat having sex with a politician?? The goat should get a good lawyer and sue for having to endure such a humiliating joke!
ouch ouch ouch!

PS - for a moment there, the pix on the right reminded me of donald the rump, the asshole running for POTUS over here.
The Burmese guy... Was it, um, a long poem?
Daang! He must not have been circumcised. Perhaps I should find a man from Burma, GB. I mean, for - uh - a friend. Wink.
That seems like it would hurt. ouch.
Now that's what I call creative cock. I'm interested in the stanza as this guy must be walking bow legged to bare such poetry.

Good grief, people and their antics. Mind you, we can always rely on our Boris.
please accept my deepest condolences on tragic passing of harambe. he was an ape's ape.

it seems illogical to sacrifice a member of an endangered species to protect a member of a species wallowing in over population.
Pop Tart: I don't know how hard it was, Ms Pop Tart. You'd have to ask the tattooist. :)

Mistress Maddie: It all depends how small the font was, Mistress. Sometimes you need a magnifying glass to read an inscription. I'm sure you'd pick up Braille quickly with a bit of practice. :)

Jimmy: I don't think the defamation laws apply to an unnamed goat, Jimmy. But maybe you could argue it's a form hate speech.

Anne Marie: I never realised a woman could feel sympathetic pains about a man's appendage, Anne Marie. How empathic you are!

Nasreen: It was longer than 'The Walrus and the Carpenter' but shorter than 'The Owl and the Pussycat'.

Robyn: I dunno Robyn - you never know whether the long ones will rise to the occasion. I hope you get the best of both worlds. ;)

Mary: A true artist will suffer for his art, Mary.

Jules: It might have been only two words, Jules. Who knows what passes for poetry in Burma. Do bow-legged humans exist? I thought that only dwarves and goblins were bow-legged.

Mr Rosewater: Poor fellow! I wish I could have warned him to keep well clear of human infants.
They do in Texas - I've seen 'em!
OMG! He tattooed his penis?

Anyways, it's not as if he was going to be showing "it" off in public.
The tattoo parlor where I had mine done had photos of past customers on the wall. A man had eyeballs tattooed onto his eyelids. It was supposed to look like his eyes were open when they were closed. Now, THAT'S a real man.

I had to say that poem out loud a few times to get the phrasing right. Couldn't do it in my head.
Must have been a haiku.
Unless he was way popular with the ladies.
If you know what I mean.
Did he flaunt his penis around?
Jules: I trust you were not scandalised by the experience, Jules. :)

Cocaine: One hopes not, Miss Princess, but you never know what passes for a greeting in exotic parts of the world.

Exile: If you've read the poem you know more that I do! Where is your tattoo?

Al: It might even have been a two-word poem, e.g. "Adam, Had'em".

Anonymous: I am not privy to that information, Sir. I suspect it was not flaunted beyond his inner circle.
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