Wednesday, November 05, 2014
My momma done tol' me
Halle Berry says her mother told her to always wear a bra, even in bed. While it’s nice to hear of a mother giving her daughter sartorial advice, she shouldn’t have made it public. According to Halle, following this dictum has kept her breasts perky at the age of 48, which suggests it was a valuable trade secret, like an old family recipe for pumpkin pie. Now that the cat is out of the bag, women the world over will be keeping their boobs permanently encased in the hope of replicating the Berry bust. This is unlikely to increase the sum of human happiness.
Let us consider the issues arising. There are women, I believe, who take great pleasure in removing their chest cups after returning home from a hard day at the souk. What will become of them now? Will they unhappily conform to the new orthodoxy or live with the guilt of allowing their breasts to swing freely? This painful dilemma would not have arisen if Halle had kept her trap shut.
Then there are other women, like my friend Kola Boof, who believe that liberating the jahoobies from their unnatural confinement is a revolutionary act of self-empowerment. If her comradely sisters suddenly started wearing bras, the consequences would be dire. I have visions of her wandering from hamlet to hamlet with her hair unkempt and her breasts smeared with soot, wailing and cursing like a vengeful priestess. Only those with nerves of steel would be unperturbed by her prophecies of doom.
As for the menfolk, one imagines they would approve of the greater quantity of shapely bosoms on display, although constantly turning their heads might strain their necks. But the realisation would soon dawn that these delightfully-packaged dumplings would never be available to play with in their denuded state. This would make them feel like boys in a sweet shop fully of juicy bonbons whose brightly-coloured wrappers they weren’t allowed to remove. The frustration would be intense and might drive many of them mad.
After painting such a grim prognosis, I should lighten the gloom with some cheerier news. Cameron Diaz has announced that she would be happy to “strip completely” in a film role, as long as it was in good taste and befitted the script. Even those who have no wish to see her naked should appreciate her willingness to go the extra mile for her art and her public. It remains to be seen whether the movie moguls will find a tasteful part for her to display her tasty parts.
I reckon the best way of holding her to her word would be to offer her the female lead in a big screen version of the Adam and Eve story. The early part of the film would have all the nudity, with Cameron frolicking unashamedly in glistening pastures and cavorting energetically with the furry creatures of Paradise. There would also be nude scenes with Adam, where they innocently play the humpy-pumpy game God taught them for the purpose of begetting. The biggest headache might be finding a convincing snake.
Labels: Adam and Eve, Bras, Breasts, Cameron Diaz, Halle Berry, jahoobies, nudity, snakes
Wednesday, April 09, 2014
Bone apart
I do hope Napoleon’s penis is returned to his descendants so they can dispose of it in a dignified manner. The unfortunate organ was detached from its deceased owner during an autopsy carried out by a resentful doctor. I have no idea what the doctor’s grudge was – the list of possible grievances that might be blamed on Napoleon is endless. Be that as it may, robbing a corpse of its masculine appendage is hardly ever justified. Maybe a transvestite who was too scared to have the operation while he was alive would have wanted to be buried in a dickless condition, but there is no reason to suspect that Napoleon was such a person.
The eminent todger was sold to an eccentric American in 1977 and currently resides in New Jersey. I know this because a “TV scientist” has tracked it down to get some publicity for his show:
"I've seen a lot of penises, from a Chihuahua to a Sperm Whale,” declared Mark Evans, presenter of Dead Famous DNA. “This is so withered.”
Stupid twerp. I’d like to see what his knob looks like after 200 years of aimless wandering inside a cigar box. And what a charlatan he is for pretending that a withered penis is an object of scientific interest. It is a sad commentary on the TV industry that this bumptious oaf has access to the airwaves and can pass himself off as a scientist.
I should make it clear that I have no admiration for Bonaparte, who was and remains an enemy of the gorilla nation. When he led his garlic-munching hordes into the Mother Continent, we gorillas immediately took up arms and offered our services to the Royal Navy. My ancestor, Bo’sun Bananas, was mentioned in dispatches by Lord Nelson after the Battle of the Nile. That noble ape despised the Corsican upstart, and I’m sure he would have wanted his remains to rest in obscurity. Making an artefact of his penis gives him undeserved publicity.
I wonder if Cameron Diaz is aware of this story. She has recently been hinting at same-sex dalliances, and hearing about a decaying penis might have pushed her along this path.
“I think women are beautiful – absolutely beautiful,” she enthused. “And I think that all women have been sexually attracted to another woman at some point.”
My advice to Cameron is to give it a go, but be careful about her choice of paramour. No one likes to see a lesbian couple where one of the women is a mannish type who wears trousers. Ideally, her lover would be as pretty and feminine as she is, making it impossible to guess who wears the strap-on. Leaving room for the imagination is never a bad thing if you’re in show business.
I wonder if Napoleon’s mistress Josephine ever had Sapphic yearnings. I wouldn’t have blamed her. No man who spends his life planning military campaigns is going to be a skilful lover. Lightning thrusts or surprise attacks never won a man glory in the sack.
Labels: Cameron Diaz, lesbian, Napoleon, todger
