Tuesday 22 September 2015

#Piggate: Does it really matter where the Prime Minister once “put a private part of his anatomy”?

So, the big question on everyone's lips today (and for the next day or so until people get bored of it or it gets roundly disproved) is: Did British Prime Minister David Cameron once face-fuck a dead pig?

Cameron not-fucking a not-dead pig
It's not the sort of question one expects to have to ask, but there you go. Allegations have been made. Anyone now not imagining the Prime Minister's cum face as he wanks off into the mouth of dead pig has got more self-restraint than me, quite frankly.

The dead-pig-face-fucking incident supposedly took place during Cameron's Oxford university days as part of an initiation rite in order to join the exclusive Piers Gaveston Society, a men-only dining club named after the supposed lover of Edward II. A society which is all about the debauchery. Sex, drugs, cross-dressing and, apparently sticking one's dick into once-living creatures.

Sources are claiming that Cameron was never a member of 'Piers Gav' (as it is referred to by the sort of twunts who join exclusive dining clubs for white upper-class wankers). Even if that's true it doesn't disprove the incident. Maybe he failed the initiation test. Maybe the PM's dead-pig-face-fucking skills aren't all that. Although, it's hard to imagine how one might mess up a task like that. Failing to finish, maybe?

Similar sort of incident from Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror episode "The National Anthem".
Brooker has said he didn't know anything about the supposed incident before writing this. And actually seems proper freaked out that all his horrible Black Mirror predictions are going to come true.
Leaving aside the issue of whether this is true of not (and it probably isn't true), is it a big deal that David Cameron may have stuck his todger in the mouth of a dead pig during an evening of youthful exuberance? Obviously, shagging dead people isn't on. Nor is shagging live animals. Dead animals, though - well there's no law against it, is there? Does the dead pig care whether it's going to end up being made into cat food or acting as a receptacle for the future Prime Minister's bollock yogurt?

From a vegetarian point of view, I'm probably against it. But is it really worse than, for example, going balls deep in a dish of sherry trifle? Or wanking into the hummus? Haven't we all done something like that in our University days?

I'm not really excusing it. But as far as the exploits of the cuntish leader of the cuntish Conservative party goes, hypothetical dead-pig-face-fucking comes a long way down in the list of Things That Are Really Cunty.

(I did consider trying not to swear too much in this blog post and then remembered that I would be talking about the Conservative party and that not using the 'c' word repeatedly would be impossible.)

Whether or not Cameron managed to get into Piers Gav, it is a matter of public record that he was a member of the Bullingdon Club - an equally twattish Oxford rich-boy wank-fest.

Back row, second from left: Prime Minister, David Cameron
Front row, right (seated): Mayor of London, Boris Johnson.
Full line up. Back row (left to right): cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt
Front row (left to right): cunt, cunt, cunt
Alongside their reputation for smashing places up for shits 'n' giggles, this is a society whose initiation rites included burning a fifty pound note in front of a beggar. Compared to that kind of Grade A Cuntery, performing sex acts on a dead pig's head seems positively delightful.

And we know that about Cameron. The British electorate still saw fit to elect his party back into office so that they could carry out their comprehensive 'Austerity' measures of screwing the poor, the disadvantaged and the disabled into the ground while pandering to the Super-Rich wankfucks that they went to school with. Because that's what the Conservative party does. Honestly, apart from the hilarity factor, I don't give a shiny shit what David Cameron chooses to do with his penis.

As a pervert, I will defend every man's right to stick his dick into whatever will give him pleasure. As long as nobody is being abused or taken advantage of in the process, obviously. 

Hey, if this is your thing, you go for it, sunshine.
I had a look on FetLife earlier to see if there were any "Face-fucking Dead Pigs" groups. FetLife fetish lists being very much the equivalent of Rule 34 of the internet. If you can imagine it, then there's probably a FetLife group enthusiastically espousing its pleasures. No luck on the dead pig thing, though. There were "Having Sex with Food" groups, sure and another one where people liked to imagine (literally) spit-roasting "Human Pigs". But as far as sticking your willy into the mouth of a dead pig goes, apparently David Cameron is on his own.

Not that I'm saying this is an actual fetish of Cameron's. Although if it is, then jolly well own it, man, for goodness sakes. Face-fuck dead pigs because you want to. Not because the Big Boys told you to.

Unless this story develops into something far more unsavoury, the dead-pig-fucking aspect of this story will probably more-or-less kinda blow over for David "Pig Fucker" Cameron. There were other aspects to this allegation including drug-taking (which is not a big deal) and his knowledge of Ashcroft's non-dom tax status (which really is).

I'm sure my final point is being made right now all over the internet, but it deserves saying again. David Cameron (allegedly) fucking a dead pig, didn't hurt anybody. However, his party's current policies of slashing benefits including Disability Living Allowance are dangerously hurting many, many vulnerable adults and children right now. It doesn't matter how many dead pigs Cameron may or may not have stuck his penis into during his privileged years at Oxford University, it is what he is doing right now that makes him a wanker of the highest order.

Thursday 10 September 2015

Sex Machine (Get Up, Stay on the Scene)

In the Coen brothers' movie Burn after Reading, there is a scene in which George Clooney takes Frances McDormand into his basement and shows her a very singular chair which he has constructed, having seen similar things for sale in "gentleman's magazines" for twelve hundred dollars.

"I'm lookin' at this thing," he tells her "and I think, 'You gotta be kiddin' me.' I'm a hobbyist. Thing's basically nothing but speed rails. I figure I'd go down to Home Depot and whip this up myself for a hundred bucks."

He switches on the device and shows his creation in all its glory. The repurposed car seat rocks back and forth and in the the crotch level gap in the seat, a shiny pink dildo pops up and down like a penis-shaped whack-a-mole.

"Oh my god," says McDormand with an expression that could be very easily be interpreted as a the sort of shock, horror and general freaked-out-ness most of us would feel when being presented with a home-made fuck chair at the end of a first date. Turns out she's not as freaked out as you might think, though. "That's fantastic," she says in an awed whisper.

It's funny because it's so ludicrous. The Clooney-Fuck-o-Matic is the least sexy thing possible. My toaster is more erotic. It's like the bit in Withnail and I, when Ralph Brown says that his friend's sister got a doll that wees itself for Christmas so he and his friend have decided to go to into business selling dolls that shit themselves. It's the deranged ramblings of a stoner who has no idea how the toy industry works.

Except that dolls who poop themselves are totally a thing. Have been for years. Withnail writer/director Bruce Robinson should be claiming some kind of royalties.

I bet Viz's "Daddy, I've done a poo-poo" unique collectors doll is now readily available on QVC these days, as well.

So it should come as no surprise to find out that mechanised sex machines aren't just something that were dreamt up by Joel and Ethan Coen for the purposes of making their characters look like hilariously deviant weirdos.

Mechanical fucking devices are available for your purchasing pleasure right now!

The LoveBotz Maestro Multi-Faceted Sex Machine is available on UberKinky for the bargain price of £399.99. Unlike the fictional Clooney fuckomatic, you don't even get a comfy chair. Just something that looks like a cross between a meat slicer and a mangle with a hastily added dildo on the front.
"The Maestro Multi-Faceted Sex Machine was designed with precision craftsmanship and extreme attention to detail. This premium sex machine from LoveBotz comes with an adjustable speed of 90 to 300 RPM so you get to choose the perfect thrusting speed for the occasion. Easy to assemble and easy to use, you can adjust the Maestro’s height, angle, stroke speed and thrusting depth."

I can choose the thrusting speed, angle and depth? You're spoiling me. I'll take two!

If your budget is ever so slightly larger, you might want to consider the F-Machine Pro 2 Fucking Machine. Available to purchase for £549.99.

It seems impossible that anything could look less sexy than the LoveBotz but you know, I think the F-Machine has managed it. The designers clearly considered 'functionality' more important than 'looking in any way attractive'.

Nice to know it's a Pro machine, though. I'd hate to be penetrated by some kind of amateur device. I'm not sure who would be constructing amateur fucking devices. It sounds like something Scrapheap Challenge would take on in between constructing hovercrafts and trebuchets. Of course that show totally faked everything. If there had been a "fucking machine" episode, the teams would have just "happened" across some handily placed engines, rotating wheely things and realistic looking nine inch dildos in their initial scrapheap recce.

(I love that show by the way. They were all dressed like they were part of some futuristic dystopian nightmare. I was happy to imagine that society, as we know it, had completely broken and the last few humans were having to scour the wreckage in order to produce a hastily cobbled together mechanised scooter. Or a Fuckbot, naturally.)

But back to the F-Machine Pro 2 Fucking Machine.

"F-Machine GEN2… the F they say is for FUN! Looking for an automatic self-propelled fucking machine? You’ve come to the right spot. This virtually silent beast is the Bentley of the sex toy world, are you ready to give it a go? The F-Machine is an extremely versatile sex machine which comes with an adjustable thrust rod that can thrust anywhere from 0 to 240rpm. This thrust rod is compatible with any Doc Johnson Vac U Lock dildo of your choice. Its adjustable thrust depth of 1-6 inches allows you to choose how deep you want to go."

Self-propelled! Thrust rod! Vac U Lock Dildo! Need I say more? I hope not, because words are kind of failing me at the moment.

I may be looking at this penetration business all wrong because, honestly, these contraptions are doing nothing for me. It's not like I feel one has to get another human being involved in one's sexual pleasure. My orgasms were mostly self-generated for a couple of decades before I rediscovered the joys of dating. Tried and tested purely organic methods usually sufficed. Although I have no objection to employing a vibrator or a magic wand for the purposes of really, really enjoying a bit of "me" time.

I don't know what it is, though, point me in the direction of a mechanised "thrusting" apparatus and I'm strangely reluctant to bend over and offer up my delicate lady areas. I'm probably missing out.
Tried and Tested Organic Method
Sexual pleasure is all very well, but I find, being a massive spanking pervert, any kind of sexual shenanigans are a secondary consideration. Being bent over and repeatedly hit on the arse with stuff will always trump clitoral stimulation and 'thrusting'-based pleasures when I'm planning my 'perfect evening'.

Is there a mechanised robotic device designed with the zealous spankee in mind? Of course there is.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to the Spanker Machine. A snip at £76.

Spanker Machine!
"The Domestic spanking Machine: Your new Adult Toy. Make your fantasies come true with Spanker Machine! The domestic spanking machine for your erotic games. Very easy to use and mount. 10 strike intensity positions. Different angles of impact."

I know what you're thinking: "Why the fuck would I want to purchase something which appears to be a camera lens attached to some meccano?" Well, hold your horses there spanko-sceptics, maybe you should check out the video before you leap to any conclusions.

Um... yeah. OK. It's not much of a spanking is it? Do you think the thong-clad model in the video would have even been aware  that there was a spanking taking place if it wasn't for the slight slappy noises and, you know, the fact she was being paid to be there?

The Spanker Machine is only suitable for spanking implements which weigh less than 100 grams. Funnily enough, I haven't weighed all the implements in my gentleman friend's collection but, you know what? I reckon all the best stuff would be unsuitably heavy for robo-spanking purposes.

Give it a decade or so and I'm sure all manner of realistic lifelike sex 'n' spanky robots will be available for sale at your local B&Q. Until then, I am happy to forego being penetrated and beaten by clunky-looking mechanised devices in favour of, well just not being penetrated and beaten by clunky-looking mechanised devices.

If I can be on the receiving end of such things from a nice, funny and delightfully sadistic human being instead, that's just a massive bonus.

Saturday 5 September 2015

World Beard Day

Today - as I am sure each and every one of you is aware - is World Beard Day. All across the planet, people are hosting Beard-themed celebrations, street parties and orgies. Probably. I don't know. I don't get out much, to be honest.

I want to like this. But it looks kind of grimy, don't you think?
I do like a beard though. I point this out so frequently to my current gentleman friend that it's quite possible he thinks I'm only dating him for his facial furniture.

Everyone looks better with a beard don't they? (Well, all men anyway. I don't think it's a particularly good look for me. Which is annoying because the amount of hair that I tweezer out of my face to avoid looking like Brian Blessed would be enough to knit a small hearthrug by the end of the week.)

Actor Rowan Atkinson (Mr Bean, Johnny English and the self-parodying Ron Anderson in The Tall Guy) for instance, is nobody's idea of a heart-throb. Yet Lord Blackadder was eminently shaggable, It's amazing what a ruff, earring, codpiece and - of course - an elegantly shaped beard will do for a man.

Yes I did just objectify Rowan Atkinson. I am a monster.
So in celebration of World Beard Day, let's look at some of the very best kind of beards.

The Shipwreck Beard

In much the same way that all dogs are only one step away from reverting back to wolves, all men are a short skip and a jump from becoming shaggy, grunting primitives. And one of the first indications that a man has lost touch with the civilising effects of society, is the growth of a massive shaggy beard.

Think Tom Hanks in Cast Away. Or The Count of Monte Cristo after years of imprisonment in the Chateau D'If. At the beginning of each episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus, a crazy-eyed man in rags with wild hair and an even wilder beard would stagger onto the screen and gasp "It's..." When the end of civilisation is upon us, all men will look like that, probably.

The Supervillain Beard

So, how can you tell if you're dating a supervillain? If he lives in a heavily guarded lair inside a volcano, that's probably your first clue. A maniacal laugh is another giveaway. Also a repeated desire to take over the world and make all lesser mortals submit to his will. But if you're still not sure, then check out his facial hair. If he's sporting a teeny tiny immaculately groomed goatee or similar, then yup, you're probably dating a supervillain.

The God Beard

You how you how you can tell for sure that beards are totally awesome? Because God, himself, chooses to sport one. At least in his 'Father' and 'Son' manifestations. Harder to tell with the 'Holy Ghost' because that's rather more ineffable. So it stands to reason that all other all-knowing, all-powerful God-type figures need to sport a similarly beatific bit of facial topiary. Can you imagine a clean-shaven Father Christmas? Or Gandalf? Or Dumbledore? It'd be ludicrous.

I do love the fact that beards have become cool again. I reckon we can thank Movember for that. Lots of cool young things decided to grow facial hair as a 'risk looking slightly stupid' dare in aid of men's health charities only to find when they got to the end of the month, they could look in the mirror and think "You know what? I am totally rocking this look."

And now we are living in an exciting new era of furry chinned footballers, models and popular beat combos. Sure, people might get all sniffy and declare that it's a hipster fad. But, fuck it, I rather like hipsters. I enjoy seeing a young lad heading off to Sainsbury's on a unicycle with a well-tended beard, a pocket-watch and a fedora. So there.

It's funny to think that in 2008, the iconic sex manual The Joy of Sex was updated and the original bearded guy in the illustrations updated with a smooth chinned replacement. Seven years on and I think we are all agreed that beards are the sexiest things ever, right?

Bring back beardy Joy of Sex guy, I say! I am going to start a campaign to have him reinstated by World Beard Day 2016.

Nose sniffing. A common precursor to sex.
In fact that's not enough. I also think that by this time next year, everyone should have a beard. Even me. I'll start working on it now.

This is pretty much what I look like when I haven't plucked for a few days, anyway.