Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Bull bollock pie
The manager of the safari camp has been asking me for advice on natural jungle aphrodisiacs. Every Valentine’s Day, his wife makes him choose between taking her to Paris or being her sex slave for the day. The Artic weather conditions now prevailing in Europe argued against the Paris trip, so he resigned himself to gigolo duty, an assignment which requires him to wear a loin cloth and rub his body with oil. The expression on his face made me think of a weary old bull being driven into a paddock where an insatiable cow awaited him.
I told him that although I knew of a herbal stimulant that works well for apes, I wasn’t sure of its effect on humans. Maybe it would help him rise to the occasion or maybe it wouldn’t. Nor could I rule out side effects.
“You don’t want to be a guinea pig on V-night,” I cautioned. “Suppose you started having convulsions when your wife was sitting on your face? She might give you a karate chop.”
“Well, I’m not using Viagra,” he mused. “When I took one of those pills last year, it was like inflating a tyre with too much air. My organ ached for days.”
“A grievous affliction to be sure,” I remarked. “The only other thing I can suggest is a Valentine’s Day dish invented by an entrepreneur in England. His company is marketing a bull testicle pie which he promises will invigorate the loins and make the bedsprings creak. It’s so potent there’s a health warning on the packet.”
“Where can I get the recipe?” asked the manager.
“The recipe isn’t important as long as you ingest the active ingredient.” I replied. “I believe there’s a cattle ranch in the Umbogo district which gives them away free if you bite them off yourself.”
“I’ll try the meat market in Brazzaville,” said the manager cautiously.
What can one say about Valentine’s Day? I’ve always thought it was an occasion for needy women to pretend they were adored by a man by pressuring him into jumping through some well-advertised hoops. During a circus tour of Costa Rica, I remember seeing hundreds of teenagers canoodling in a public square on 14th February. They reminded me of the brainwashed followers of a kooky religious cult participating in a mass wedding. I have nothing against one or two couples smooching in a public place, which adds a little sugar to the scenery. But when a whole herd of them does it, we're moving into rabbit-farm territory.
I wonder what Taib Seferovic has been doing on Valentine’s Day? For those who haven’t been following the news, he is a 61-year-old Bosnian man with 49 ex-wives, fervently hoping to get hitched for the 50th time.
“My wives have never asked for alimony because they know I have no money," he explained.
I suppose he must have spent it all on chocolates and flowers. He sounds like a great catch for some lucky spinster.
Labels: aphrodisiac, bull testicles, Valentine's Day, Viagra
Friday, March 18, 2011
Mango sauce
Africa is full of the most wonderful natural medicines. Our mangoes contain a substance that keeps you trim by speeding up your metabolism, which is far healthier than taking diet pills that make you shit like a horse. It only works for women, though. Men who take it just want to have butt sex.
I used to run a little jungle laboratory that extracted this compound from wild mangoes. It wasn’t for the local women, who get plenty of exercise and prefer being fleshy in any case. I sold it exclusively to the wives of western diplomats living in Brazzaville, never charging them more than I needed to cover my costs. The only profit I wanted was the knowledge that overweight white women were shedding surplus pounds and climbing trees in triumph. Call me sentimental, but that’s the kind of ape I am.
I had to halt this charitable venture after an incident involving British ambassador’s wife, which alerted me to a side effect of the drug. This woman was an attractive former cocktail waitress who had acquired a few too many love-handles in early middle-age. On visiting my tribe in the jungle, she was naturally fascinated by our sleek, firm bodies, bounding energetically through the undergrowth. I agreed to see her at the official residence for further consultations. We took tea in the veranda after I arrived.
“Maybe I’d get into shape if you gave me regular massages,” she suggested.
“Ma’am, I fear that would merely move the surplus tissue from one area to another,” I replied. “What you must do is burn off the fat, and I have just the thing to stoke your fire.”
So I gave her the mango extract, and a few months later all seemed fine and dandy – the woman was slimmer in the waist and tighter in the tenderloins. Then I got a summons from her husband, the ambassador. He didn’t waste time in small talk after I sat down in his office.
“Bananas, you hairy rascal, what the devil have you been giving my wife?!”
I resisted the urge to tweak his nose for that insult. A man whose wife has been taking medication from a gorilla is entitled to express himself forcefully.
“Just a little something to energise her,” I replied. “I shouldn’t discuss my prescriptions with third parties.”
“Third party, my arse!” he barked. “The woman is so insatiable that I have to sleep in the guest room! My balls are aching and she’s threatening to have an affair with the chauffeur!”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “I won’t give her any more of the substance until we’ve looked into its aphrodisiac properties. In the meantime, I suggest give your chauffeur a month’s leave and order some sex toys.”
Although I no longer produce the drug, others have exploited the gap in the market. It is now available in supermarkets without a doctor’s prescription. For fat women with low sex-drives it is nothing short of a miracle cure, but what about fat women with high sex-drives? Has no one considered the desperate lengths to which they might be driven?
Labels: aphrodisiac, dieting, fat women, female Viagra
