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.
Labels: Burma, goat-love, tattoo, todger
