Monday, August 16, 2010
Fringe benefits
Back home from Scotland, a place I normally avoid for fear of being nipped by icy breezes and accosted by intoxicated natives. It was only the lure of a cultural festival featuring artists such as Miss Behave, Mrs Bang and Ms American Cougar that tempted me to venture into Haggis Territory.
I don’t want to say too much about Behave and Bang. The former was more bossy than naughty and the latter rewarded the audience for laughing at her jokes by exposing a portion of her milky-white flesh. I would have laughed like a hyena if I hadn’t been falling asleep, her act being well past my normal bedtime.
It was Sandra Risser, the American Cougar, whose hot flashes of brilliance illuminated the dingy tavern in which she performed, leaving me with a tingling sensation in my toes. Her act broke new ground by being mainly interactive, and as a keen interactor, I was the first to raise my hand and catch her eye. I began, as one should on such occasions, with a compliment:
“Ms Risser, may I say how positively radiant you are this evening? Your skin glows like the waters of the River Congo at sunset.”
“It’s the menopause!” cried a cheeky Caledonian voice from the audience.
I silenced the guffaws with a loud grunt. A gorilla does not appreciate having his compliments mutilated by a heckler.
“I’ll hang you upside down by your ankles so you know what the menopause feels like!” I shouted menacingly.
It was at this point that Ms Risser intervened.
“Jeez, Mr Gorilla, you’re so gallant on my behalf! Are you married? Don’t answer that, I’ll settle for being your mistress. Living in a tree would make my butt sore. Actually I have a recurring menopause. My first one started when I was 35 and it comes back every 5 years with a brighter glow. If I walk into my garden at night moths fly around my head. Did you have a question?”
“Yes indeed, Ms Risser,” I replied. “My question is this: Are there rules which if broken by a cougar would result in her expulsion from the ranks of cougardom? For example, is a cougar allowed to have sex with an older man?”
“Sure, why not?” she replied. “Doing it once doesn't count anyway. You’re still a virgin after a one night stand. I lost my virginity to 23 different men.”
She continued in this vein, improvising effortlessly in response to the jocular (and often impertinent) questions thrown in her direction. At the end of her act, she invited me to join her for a drink. As we sat at our table, she assured me that her offer to be my mistress had been a joke.
“Of course it was, Sandra!” I exclaimed. “Your slender haunches could never bear the pressure!”
“You used to perform in a circus, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“How did you manage to fill the void in your life after you gave it up? I’m 69 and the thought of retiring terrifies me.”
“Well, Sandra, living in the wild helps. Your life is never empty when spiders and snakes are crawling nearby.”
“You could be right,” she said with a smirk. “But I may have to get a pet snake at my age.”
I nodded silently, judging that further serpentine matters could be left safely in her hands. She obviously knew more about pet snakes than I did.
Labels: Cougars, Edinburgh Fringe, menopause, retirement, snakes
Friday, May 21, 2010
Violets are blue
Mel Gibson has vehemently denied bedding a Polish porn star called Violet Kowal. “It’s an absurd fabrication!” he yelled at a reporter who asked him whether he put on a Batman mask before mounting her. Violet has stuck to her story, taking a lie-detector test to prove she’s telling the truth.
“Mel is great in bed,” she said. “It was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
You’ve got to admire a woman who speaks so generously of a man who has denounced her as a hoaxer. Mel should hang his head in shame for his ungallant behaviour. A gentleman would have accepted the compliment gracefully rather than issuing shrill denials. It’s not as if he had a reputation to protect.
Could he be worried that people will think Violet isn’t attractive enough for him? A-list actors are incredibly vain and hate to be seen chasing B-list totty. I showed her picture to the manager of the safari camp to find out what he thought. After ogling the photo from several different angles, he gave me his considered opinion.
“She’s not bad at all,” he said, “but you can’t tell everything from a picture. She may be one of those dishes that looks better on the plate than it tastes in the mouth.”
“Hmm,” I mused. “I suppose you could say that about any woman. But this is beside the point. If I were Mel’s pimp, I’d find him a woman nearer his own age – young enough to be his baby sister rather than his daughter. People respect a man who declines the spring chicken for the more mature fowl. It shows sophistication and discretion. And confidence in one’s plucking ability.”
The manager was horrified by my suggestion.
“You’re crazy, Bananas!” he exclaimed. “Women like that are called 'cougars'. They hang out in packs, comparing sex toys and hiring male strippers to molest. Videos of their antics are all over the internet. It’s terrifying!”
“Cougars, you say?” I replied. “Aren’t they just overgrown pussycats with sharper claws and bigger teeth? I will investigate before commenting on your allegations.”
After doing my own research, I discovered that these cougars are nothing like as frightful as the manager implied. In many ways they are a positive social force. The manufacturers of erotic lingerie are especially grateful to them for buying their wares during the economic downturn. As for their romps with male strippers, that’s just harmless, high-spirited fun. It’s obvious that the strippers are not really cringing with fear but enjoying every minute of it. Nor are the cougars treating them particularly roughly – female gorillas would be astonished at their moderation.
These vivacious ladies ought to have an annual convention to exchange ideas and make strategic decisions. I would certainly attend as a sympathetic observer, offering the gorilla perspective on cougarism, and filming some of the livelier seminars. It might end up as an award-winning documentary to rival the work of my friend Davy Attenborough. Any cougars who’d like to get involved should drop me a line tout de suite.
Labels: Cougars, Mel Gibson, Violet Kowal
