Wednesday, November 02, 2016
Emerging talent
I’m wondering whether to buy a collection of songs by Tove Lo, the up-and-coming Swedish singer. Although it’s unlikely I’ll listen to them very often (if at all), one must do what one can to encourage young talent. She has been kind enough to make a video for one of the songs freely available. Most of its scenes show her writhing on the roof of a car or straddling a glass coffin. Apparently she was performing some kind of mating dance:
“To me, music and sex are very connected,” she declared. “I’m a very sexual person.”
Miss Lo has called her new album ‘Lady Wood’. If you think that’s the name of a forest where upper class women have picnics, you’d be wrong. She revealed the true meaning of the title in a recent interview with Vogue:
“It’s kind of like saying a chick with balls, but since we don’t have balls, it’s lady wood. It’s almost like saying, ‘Don’t be a pussy’.”
Call me a confused ape, but this explanation seems to have a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in it. Yes, women don’t have balls, I agree with her on that point. But unless I have been gravely misinformed about the anatomy of the human female, they don’t have anything woody down there either. And why is she using the word “pussy” to mean a weak and pathetic person? A woman who is standing up for her gender should reclaim the kitty word to signify something divine and delicious. Perhaps Miss Lo needs to go on a feminist empowerment course run by Gloria Steinem or one of her disciples.
One has to make allowances for that fact that she is from Sweden, of course. English is not her mother tongue, while Swedish is the tongue of her mother. Ambiguous words like “wood” have deceived the greatest linguists. Back in my circus days, we once hosted an acrobat from Finland, visiting on an exchange programme.
“Happiness is the most important thing,” I said while showing him to his trailer.
“Yes, I hab penis,” he replied with a nervous grin.
I nodded and left him to his devices.
Once she sorts out her issues with the English language, Miss Lo has every chance of hitting the big time. Fans of pop music haven’t heard a Swedish voice in full-throat since the long-lamented demise of ABBA, so her act should have plenty of novelty value. I would advise her to save her sexiest material for prime time audiences. Miley Cyrus played a goody-two-shoes character before launching her twerking exhibition on the world and it propelled her to instant stardom. Sticking your tongue out and wiggling your bottom only makes a big splash when it’s totally unexpected. No one would have batted an eyelid if Madonna had done it. I just hope Miss Lo hasn’t jumped the gun by humping a glass coffin in her pop video. As any lioness will tell you, timing is everything if you want to make a kill.
Labels: Miley Cyrus, Sweden, Tove Lo, twerking
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Playing politics
Don’t you just hate it when high-and-mighty politicians dismiss the concerns of ordinary citizens as not worth a rat’s toenail? This recently happened in Sweden, when a man complained to the health minister about a couple having noisy sex.
“You're my only hope,” tweeted the man. “Could you ban risqué exercises after 10pm?”
The minister’s response was arrogance personified:
“Sounds nice for them, I think. Good for their well-being and thus public health as well.”
In other words, the guilty couple could go on making a big hullaballoo during their mating gymnastics with the full approval of the Swedish government. One might hope that the minister’s flippant attitude would make him unpopular with the voters, but I suspect he has carefully weighed the electoral arithmetic. We can divide the Swedish population into four groups:
1) Exhibitionists who want people to hear them having sex.
2) Eavesdroppers who want to hear people having sex.
3) Light sleepers who are disturbed by noisy sex.
4) Heavy sleepers who are not disturbed by noisy sex.
If groups (1) and (2) outnumber group (3), the minister can be confident of winning more votes than he’s lost. The voting intentions of group (4) probably won’t be affected, because heavy sleepers are selfish bastards who don’t care about people who are disturbed by sounds they can sleep through. Such is the harsh and cynical world of human politics.
Now the minister attempted to justify his position by implying that having noisy sex is good for your health. You might think a health minister would be well-informed about such matters, but politicians have a habit of concocting any old nonsense that might win them votes. You don’t have to be a medical genius to realise that shouting your head off while exercising your loins will give you a sore throat. Instead of making you as fit as a horse, it will simply make you hoarse. Will the doctors of Sweden stand up to the minister and denounce him as a quack and a charlatan? The Hippocratic oath demands it, but unfortunately these physicians depend on the Swedish government for their livelihood. He who pays the pipe cleaner decides which holes are blown.
Of course, I don’t wish to imply that humans who make a lot of noise during their conjugal exertions always want the approval of an admiring audience. Those of you who have seen the movie M*A*S*H will remember the scene where Radar places a microphone inside Major Houlihan’s tent so the camp can hear Frank Burns gurgling into her body cavities. The pair were not pleased to be teased about their moaning and groaning next morning. Indeed, when Hawkeye Pierce asked one question too many about the terrain in Planet Hotlips, Major Burns had to be restrained in a straitjacket. You might think that placid Swedes would not be so easily enraged by such mockery, but don’t forget that their ancestors were Vikings. I would also hazard a guess that they make funnier noises than Americans.
Labels: arrogant politicians, Hotlips Houlihan, noisy sex, Sweden
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Legal in Sweden
The manager of the safari camp saw fit to inform me that masturbating in public is now legal in Sweden. He seemed to think it was some kind of good news story that would put a smile on my face. On seeing my poker-faced reaction, he said:
“What’s the matter? I thought you’d approve of this.”
“What business is it of mine?” I replied. “I’m sure the Swedes can manage their own affairs without my input on every policy reform.”
“But aren’t you glad they’re becoming more like apes?” he asked. “I’ve never seen a gorilla sneak into a cave with a dirty magazine when he wanted to have a wank.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re exhibitionists,” I retorted. “I assure you such feats can be pulled off in the wild without attracting an audience.”
On reviewing the relevant news item, I quickly discovered that the manager had been exaggerating. What happened in Sweden was that a 65-year-old man who had been masturbating on a beach was acquitted of sexual assault. The judge ruled that he was innocent of this charge because his act was not aimed at an unwilling victim. He may nevertheless have been guilty of the lesser crime of “disorderly conduct”.
This seems like a balanced and well-considered judgement. I’ve seen countless baboons pleasuring themselves in open country, and I never felt insulted or abused unless they made eye contact and thrust their organ in my direction. If a human did that it would obviously be a gross outrage, worthy of clamping the culprit in irons and attaching a ball-and-chain to his leg. Never be too soft in dealing with the gawker-stroker.
It’s worth remembering that many of the great men of history were vigorous self-abusers. They generally jerked off in private, although a few medieval kings did it in the presence of a manservant holding a spittoon (which was thought to be civilised in those days). William Gladstone, the British prime minister, said it was a necessary release of surplus sexual energy that allowed him to reform prostitutes without cheating on his wife:
“I have never been guilty of the act which is known as infidelity to the marriage bed,” he boasted.
On the subject of wives, some academics from Oxford University have postulated that women decide which man to marry from the way he kisses them. I can well believe it, but it doesn’t tell us what kind of kiss will bring a woman to the altar. One assumes it must be mouth-to-mouth, although mouth-to-arse would be a more fitting inducement for certain types of union.
It reminds me of those Technicolor Hollywood movies, where the macho hero forces his lips on the mouth of the feisty heroine, who pummels his back for ten seconds before melting into his arms. Are there really women who would marry a man who rape-kissed them in that fashion? If I ever met a woman like that, I would subject her to a prolonged inquisition on a psychiatrist’s couch.
Labels: arse-kissing, forced-kissing, Gladstone, kissing, masturbation, Sweden
Monday, March 19, 2012
Swedish kerb crawling incident
I’m feeling a bit sorry for the un-named Swedish politician who’s been fined for picking up a prostitute. Apparently he’d only been giving her a lift home, but knew the police wouldn’t believe him when they stopped his car. When they started asking embarrassing questions, he made a false confession to put the incident behind him. He now says he couldn’t have been a client of the girl because he suffers from a medical condition that has rendered him impotent.
Before dismissing his story as far-fetched, picture the following scene:
An impotent politician driving through a red-light district sees a prostitute trudging wearily to the bus station after a long night shift. She stumbles awkwardly on her high-heeled shoes. He feels a pang of sympathy for the girl – perhaps she reminds him of his daughter at college – and pulls up beside her.
“Sorry, I’ve finished for the night,” she says as the car window opens.
“I know,” replies the man. “I am actually a famous politician whom you would recognise if you were an educated woman rather than an unfortunate whore with no interest in public affairs. Please allow me to drive you home safely. The chill of night is making your thighs cold. You have nothing to fear, for I am impotent.”
“I know,” replies the man. “I am actually a famous politician whom you would recognise if you were an educated woman rather than an unfortunate whore with no interest in public affairs. Please allow me to drive you home safely. The chill of night is making your thighs cold. You have nothing to fear, for I am impotent.”
“Thank you kindly, Sir,” says the prostitute. “I live in Bjorn Borg Plaza and will give you my number so you can contact me in future. Perhaps you will want to hire me when your cock wakes up from its coma. Haha!”
Now, none of the above may have actually happened, but how can anyone be sure? Giving tarts a lift home is unquestionably a good deed throughout Scandinavia, where the nights can be rather nippy. Should a goody-goody nation like Sweden run the risk of convicting a man with a dysfunctional todger of a crime he did not commit? I think not.
The next question to consider is whether the politician could get an official pardon from Queen What’s-Her-Face of Sweden. He might if a foolproof method of proving his impotence existed. The manager of the safari camp suggested tying him to a bed and hiring one of Hef’s playmates to see if she could perk it up (a skill she would have practised to proficiency in the Playboy mansion). But such tests are only reliable for teenage boys, whose reproductive organs have a mind of their own. The middle-aged man can always close his eyes and think of Fatima Whitbread. Absence of activity is not evidence of incapacity and it wouldn’t stand up in court.
The next question to consider is whether the politician could get an official pardon from Queen What’s-Her-Face of Sweden. He might if a foolproof method of proving his impotence existed. The manager of the safari camp suggested tying him to a bed and hiring one of Hef’s playmates to see if she could perk it up (a skill she would have practised to proficiency in the Playboy mansion). But such tests are only reliable for teenage boys, whose reproductive organs have a mind of their own. The middle-aged man can always close his eyes and think of Fatima Whitbread. Absence of activity is not evidence of incapacity and it wouldn’t stand up in court.
Perhaps the best solution would be for the UK to offer him political asylum. The standing of the British ruling class has fallen so low that a politician who claims to have chauffeured a prostitute would be seen a hero in the Don Quixote tradition. The British could then hand over the Wikileaks fellow in return, who allegedly lacks chivalry in his own dealings with the fairer sex. With any luck he’ll be impotent when the Swedes have finished with him.
Labels: Fatima Whitbread, impotence, prostitutes, Sweden, Wikileaks
