Salve And No Way

I have decided that I must be a master of disguise because every time the ‘Parish Sister’ sees me at Mass, she asks if I’m new to the area!
I might tell her I am and see if there is some sort of ‘Welcome Pack’.

Today the Oldies came into their own.
It’s The Feast of The Queenship of Mary, or something like that.
Equally it could be the Feast of St Quentin the Hairy.
They were digging up the road outside and I didn’t quite hear.
The priest decided we were going to sing the Salve Regina at the end.
In Latin.
Step up the coffin dodgers and pre Vatican II-er‘s, your time has come.
I can remember how the words go and how you say them, I’m just really shit with the tune.
The trouble is, to my eternal shame, I have this going on in my head!
My Auntie Rosie LOVED him to death.
So I blame it on all the summer holidays spent with my cousins under her influence!
The Nutty Daddy used to start it up at the end of any religious gathering, no matter what the denomination or the celebration, much to his family’s embarrassment.

Playboy reckons that these are the Top Ten places to ‘have sex before you die’.
Um.
Fuck No!
Let’s look a little closer.

1. In the car.
Er, who hasn’t? It must be one of the first things anybody does when they get a car. It’s a portable bedroom.
70% of us were probably conceived in one.

2. In the pool.
Look out of the window in any Spanish or Greek resort and watch how the water ‘rushes around the genitals’ of a fat lass from Wigan.
As for ‘killing natural lube’, dear Christ I DO fecking hope so!

3. The cinema.
They have got to be joking.
After, somehow, paying £25 for a bag full of your favourite sweeties, a carton of popcorn that tastes like Styrofoam cups and coke that tastes like that Soda Stream shit; the last thing on your mind is a bunk up.
Most of the film is taken up with seething and making sure nothing is dropped or wasted.

4. Back of a cab.
Yeah, if you want a fatwa put on you by your Muslim driver and a Thirty Five quid ‘clean up’ charge.

5. On a train.
Travel to anywhere along the Cardiff line and I guarantee you have had sex already.
Probably without realising.
Passengers are crammed in so tight; if you haven’t had sex with someone, then someone has had sex with you.

6. In the woods.
The Right to Roam legislation has opened up a lot more of the countryside to the ‘adventurous fucker’; but you are more likely to meet a red faced lunatic, dressed in tweed with a shotgun screaming “Get Orf My Land”.
Superman maybe as fast as a speeding bullet, but let’s see him dodge it with his trousers bunched round his ankles.

7. In a nightclub.
I’m gay for the love G-d, It’s the law!
Must be done in the only cubicle that locks, to the romantic sounds of a heavy bass beat and the door being kicked in by MTF transsexuals wanting a piss.

8. On a boat.
Other than the cross channel ferry the nearest most of us come to a ‘boat’ is a pedalo.
I don’t imagine that there is any kind of ‘gentle rocking’ given their design.
Diving into a sea full of shit, condoms and sundry pollution doesn’t really appeal either.

9. A mile high.
It takes the suppleness of Olga Korbett to get in the fecking thing on your own, so two is a logistical nightmare. The furnishings are placed in the optimum position to hinder any kind of needful frolicking.
I know.
I almost split my head open on a sink.

10. On a beach.
Lovely. Not.
Make your bed amongst the thousands of plastic bottles, in the twinkling light of a million glass shards and hypodermic needles.
Your head resting on a pillow of Dr Whites and tampons, as you get covered in tar and take the suede off the toes of your shoes.
Yeah, that’s a real turn on.