Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Non-lethal weapon
Call me an innocent ape, but I had no idea that women who subscribe to on-line dating sites receive a never-ending barrage of penis pictures. Apparently, there are men who believe that photos of their sexual organs serve as an adequate substitute for a formal introduction. If any women have found these dick pics helpful or intriguing, they are keeping very quiet about it. The ones who have spoken out publicly are divided broadly into two camps – those who are sick to their stomachs and those who are angrier than hornets.
In truth, it’s difficult to guess what men who send these pictures are hoping to achieve. You can’t measure the size of a todger from a picture, and what would it prove if you could? If having a huge appendage meant you were good in bed, women would be sleeping with horses and elephants. As one who has watched elephants mate from time to time, I can testify that it’s a clumsy, slapstick affair. The females look as if they can’t wait for the whole thing to be over.
Some women have found these penile portraits so aggravating that they have dreamt up ingenious methods of revenge. I was intrigued to read a news item about a 26-year-old woman in England who subscribes to a service called ‘Snapchat’. Fed up of being electronically flashed by men seeking to make her acquaintance, she offered one of the offenders a rendezvous:
“I pretended I was going to let him come to my house and I thought to myself, ‘where should I send this man?’” explained Miss Tara Natasha.
In a flash of inspiration, she gave him the postcode of Buckingham Palace, which he duly entered into his satellite navigation device.
“It was so funny I couldn’t cope,” said Tara. ‘When he was approaching Buckingham Palace, he still didn’t click. I then sent him a photo of the Queen smiling.”
The man did not take the joke in good part. In fact, his behaviour reminded me of a male baboon whose face was urinated on by a female in season. Fortunately, he was unable to carry out his dire threats.
Clever prank though this was, I can’t say I approve of sending the fellow to Buckingham Palace. What if he had flashed at the Queen? A woman in her 90s doesn’t need that kind of surprise when she’s watering the plants. It would have been better to send him the postcode of a Turkish kebab house instead. Any fool who acts fresh in such a place is likely to end up with a skewer in his groin.
There may, however, be better methods of redress than sending such scoundrels on a wild goose chase. Why not just publish the indecent pictures on-line, in a rogues’ gallery of wicked willies? A panel of judges could then append their own comments, dripping with sarcasm and contempt. We gorillas believe that humiliation is often the most effective punishment. A good dose of shame will make the miscreant run away and look for a rock to crawl under.
Labels: cyber flashing, The Queen, todger
Monday, May 18, 2009
The Queen and I
When I tell American tourists that I used to live in England, they often ask me whether I ever met Queen Elizabeth II. Sadly we were never formally introduced, although our paths did once cross on the day of the Epsom Derby. On her way back home from the races, her car stopped alongside my car at the traffic lights. As our eyes met, I licked my thumbnail and rubbed it on my chin in a circular motion. The alpha females all know what it means, and Her Majesty gave me the biggest ear-to-ear grin you could ever wish to see on the face of a reigning monarch. I later received a jar of royal jelly from Buckingham Palace with a card signed “ERxxx”.
Yes, indeed, the Queen gazed into my soul and evidently liked what she saw. I think she sensed we were kindred spirits, both being expected to perform in public, albeit in very different ways. Her job was the harder by far. I never needed to worry about making a fool of myself because people always assumed it was part of my act. But the Queen had to be constantly in control of her emotions lest she was photographed making a silly face. That’s not easy given the number of people she meets, some of whom will inevitably scratch their crotch in her presence.
The latest attempt to embarrass England’s gracious monarch occurred when a couple were caught dogging on the lawn outside Windsor Castle. Apparently it was a spur-of-the-moment thing which they later much regretted. As the Queen was in residence, the royal security police had no option but to pounce on the pair while excited Japanese tourists clicked their cameras. Her Majesty, of course, remained impassive during the whole fracas. People sometimes forget that she is an accomplished horse breeder who has watched hot pumping stallions cover countless mares. For those who have witnessed such deeds, human coitus is a spectacle no more shocking than gerbils having a cuddle.
Much less impressive than Queen Elizabeth are her immediate family. The fogeyish Prince of Wales continues to denounce his pet hates in front of audiences who grin sheepishly at his fixations. One thing I know as a gorilla is that you should never complain about architecture. Human erections are part of the landscape and no more worthy of condemnation than the mountains and trees. One should especially avoid criticising tall buildings in case people think you have a penile complex. From the way Wally Prince Charlie goes on about these edifices you’d think they were giant dildos inserted half-way up his celestial butt-hole.
A lot of Americans seem envious of the British monarchy, but there’s nothing to stop them having their own titular sovereign. Mrs Obama is too tall for the job and the base of her neck looks inappropriately sturdy – a warrior princess perhaps, but a queen definitely not. Hilldog, on the other hand, is naturally regal in her demeanour and full of queenly qualities. Her only demerit is to have been repeatedly cuckolded without retaliating, which is not in the spirit of Catherine the Great. She won’t be worthy of her nation’s crown until she gets out of the hen coop and sows some royal oats. Assuming, of course, there is still a man bold enough to pin her to the bed.
Labels: dogging, Hilldog, Prince Charles, The Queen
