Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Nuns on the up
The number of women becoming nuns in England and Wales has trebled over the past five years. Before you get too excited about this news, the numerical increase was from 15 to 45. Of course, these figures don’t include women who secretly become nuns without telling the church. There must be many thousands who wear the wimple at private events in hotels and taverns.
Ignorant people who think that women become nuns because they are too unattractive to have sex should study the case of Theodora Hawksley (pictured above). This 29-year-old postdoctoral researcher mystified her friends by giving up her academic career to join a nunnery in North London.
“In one sense it is a bit like trying to explain to somebody why you are marrying the person you are,” explained Theodora. “You can list their qualities, but in the end it is a relationship of love.”
When I showed her picture to the manager of the safari camp, his breathing quickened.
“What would I have to do to kiss this woman on the lips?” he asked.
“You could start by changing your name to Jesus Christ,” I replied. “Then perform a few miracles, rise from the dead, and her tongue will be wrestling with your tonsils in no time.”
“Bah!” grunted the manager. “I was hoping taking her up The Shard might do the trick.”
Theodora is joining an order of nuns called ‘The Congregation of Jesus’, which encourages its daughters to discard the traditional habit in favour of a t-shirt and jeans. This makes it easier for them to mingle with the ungodly, but harder for the men they meet in discotheques and bars to know they are unavailable. The only solution I can think of is printing “Girlfriend of God” or “Wholly Virgin” on their t-shirts. Being upfront about your situation is better than planting booby-traps on your body, like Catherine de Medici.
Now Theodora, at the age of 29, might not be wholly or even partially a virgin. This possibility we must bravely face. But I don’t agree it would make her less effective in the business of nunning. There is much to be said for tasting the forbidden fruit before giving yourself to Jesus, rather than going through life having masochistic fantasies like Teresa of Avila. The modern nun should be knowledgeable about sex so she can give advice to teenage girls like Maisie Williams, who is currently finding it difficult to understand her own sexual feelings.
Maisie doesn’t tell us what her problem is, but at the age of eighteen I would guess she has apprehensions about the male sexual organ. This would be perfectly normal. As a girl blossoms into womanhood, a man’s todger goes from being an evil snake to a useful (if rather comical) sex aid. There can’t be a woman on Earth who hasn’t, at some moments in her life, had mixed feelings about the beast. There’s no need for Maisie to worry if thinking about it gives her the shudders.
Labels: Maisie Williams, Nuns, The Shard, todger, virginity, virgins
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Sex tourism
Labels: bonking spree, gigolo, Nuns, Sex toys
Friday, February 08, 2008
A nun defiled
Shocking news of a man who broke into a church to view the pornography on a nun’s computer. I hope they throw the book at this sacrilegious scoundrel. Fingering a nun’s keyboard with profane intent is a serious desecration. As for the images on her hard drive, he who ogles them with lustful eyes has surely committed a mortal sin. The fact that the man was a worshipper at the church does not excuse his behaviour in the slightest. “Sharing a nun’s pornography is no different from sharing her bed,” said Pope Alexander IV, who did both.
Security must have been lax to allow this impious fiend to enter the church and click on the holy sister’s mouse. If they can’t afford a burglar alarm, they should at least hire a couple of Rhesus monkeys to swing from the rafters. Those nosey simians would have screeched their lungs off at the intruder, pissing on his head for good measure. The puzzling question is how the man knew there was porn on the PC. Could there be a corrupt priest selling secrets from the confession box on eBay? More likely, the source was the nuns themselves. I expect the man followed them into a pub and listened to their gossip from a nearby table. Get a couple of drinks inside a nun and the contents of her desktop device will be common knowledge.
It goes without saying that there are valid spiritual reasons for a nun to download pornography. How else could she keep a watchful eye on the latest wicked vices that Satan has nurtured in the licentious loins of the faithless fornicators? She is clearly entitled to know what she has renounced in dedicating herself to holy service. In addition, it’s never a bad idea to remind the Man Upstairs of the sacrifices being made by His followers on Earth. God is obviously not the sort of bloke to take his servants for granted, but what with one thing and another he may have overlooked all the abstinence that’s going on in His name. The occasional gentle reminder at prayer time surely wouldn’t go amiss.
I’m proud to say that I always took a firm line on pornography in the circus. I would never work with clowns or dwarves who stared at pictures of naked women before entering the ring. A gorilla does not want to manhandle distracted fellows who are confused about the job in hand. The best male performers avoided porn altogether, correctly viewing it as a pastime that would sap their energy and enfeeble their minds. They preferred to satisfy their urges by mating with ugly women, so they only had sex when they really needed it and never had to work too hard to get it. As for the female artistes, looking at porn did them no harm because their energy was effectively unsappable.
My own policy on pornography is quite simple: I will never download it myself, but will review, out of courtesy, any short clips that are forwarded to me. By such means I have accumulated a fair collection over the years. (If you are thinking of sending me a snippet, please note that I don’t have the patience to look at anything longer than a minute.) The latest porn fetish seems to be “female ejaculation”, an ability evidently possessed by a relatively small number of women. I just hope that ladies who lack this particular skill don’t believe their orgasms are somehow “inferior” to the squirters. There’s a lot more to sexual fulfilment than making your cha-cha behave like a water pistol.
Labels: desecration, Nuns, pornography, squirters
Monday, December 17, 2007
Brides of Santa
I’m glad to hear that the authorities are finally cracking down on sharp practice in the Santa Claus industry. Men who wear false whiskers should never be encouraged, in my view. When I was in the circus, we once gave a middle-aged clown Santa privileges during the festive season. Unfortunately, the impudent fellow supposed that putting on the costume and beard gave him the right to pester female staff whenever he had the urge to feel a pert bottom on his lap. The knife-thrower’s assistant got more than her fair share of his attention and asked me to swap trailers with her on Christmas Eve. I readily agreed, keeping the door unlocked to allow the blighter to pursue whatever villainous scheme he had in mind.
I awoke in the dead of night to the sound of rummaging at the foot of the bed. The deluded nitwit had grasped my left foot and was about to subject it to some sort of oral perversion! Unluckily for him, the dextrous toes of a gorilla are capable of faster and more decisive action than the slobbering tongue of a man. Without issuing a warning, I grabbed his nose and gave it a vicious tweak. He stumbled out of the trailer moaning, obviously in no condition to deliver further presents that night. He subsequently tried to hide his injury under the false nose of his clown’s costume. I hushed up the incident to preserve what little dignity he retained.
Next Christmas, I was approached by an all-female delegation begging me to play the part of the nocturnal nomad from the North Pole.
“You’re the only Santa we’d trust to fill our stockings!” they chirped.
I wasn’t going to fall for their flattery. There is a fine line between a performing gorilla and a big hairy arse in a Noddy costume. I excused myself with the following words:
“I am touched by your offer, ladies, but I fear that I am rather too bulky to slide down your slender chimneys.”
The women swallowed their disappointment and hit upon the revolutionary idea of appointing a female Santa. The girl they chose worked in the make-up section and insisted on wearing a red miniskirt rather than the traditional pixie britches. She did a fair job until she was caught in flagrante with her boyfriend under the trampoline, still wearing her costume. People then started calling her ‘Saint Knickerless’ behind her back, and it was all downhill from there.
It goes without saying that there’s a lot more to Christmas than getting presents from a pot-bellied codger dressed like a garden gnome. In my considered opinion, Mr Claus is a usurper who has unjustly upstaged the true luminaries of the occasion, who are the nuns. As brides of Christ, they are, figuratively speaking, wives of the birthday boy. And after spending the whole year living on bread, soup and prayers, they ought to have pride of place in the Christmas celebrations, wearing festive clothes and dancing with the best-looking blokes.
If the Pope had a little more imagination, he would give the nuns special dispensation to have sex with the man of their choice on Christmas Day. No man should be allowed to refuse them on pain of excommunication (other than the Pope himself, who is primus non bonkus). On this special day of the year, making love to a nun should be a holy sacrament rather than fornication most vile.
It would be interesting to see who the holy sisters would choose to be their lovers. A lot of them wouldn’t bother, of course. After years of non-use, the female parts are prone to seize up like an engine that’s short of oil. My feeling is that those who are still interested would surprise us with their selections, eschewing the predictable Brad Pitt or George Clooney types. Call me a fanciful ape, but I reckon that Sister Bridget would be fatally drawn to a brooding saturnine fellow like Christopher Lee in his Dracula days. The temptation to dabble in the dark side is greatest for those who have known only light.
Labels: Christopher Lee, Nuns, Santa Claus. Saint Knickerless
