So.. lock-down.. it's
been.. GREAT! I can take some tie out to show my mum what kind of
human being she raised. A fucking thirty three year old manchild! I
am able to say that despite growing into my goddamn gorgeous looks a
little, I am still the lazy loser geek I've always been. You see
whilst some of you have been learning new skills, being creative with
your sourdoughs and twenty five push up challenges, I've started
playing Dungeons and Dragons again! I can feel my virginity growing
back every day. But that's OK. Because I'm 33. Sex.. it's over.
Look, as soon as the average man hits thirty, his testosterone levels
drop by about one percent a year. In my case it's more like ten
which is why my plans to get prison-hench in isolation haven't been
going that well. I started lifting weights so I'd have a real “don't
drop the soap around me” look. I even tried to give myself a
mohawk to scare my cat. You know, walking round like I'm 90s Phil
Anselmo.. He was a muscular ex racist heroin addict turned metal bad
ass. Instead I look like a racist doughnut addict. Or an Aryan
Brotherhood rentboy. “I'll suck your dick for a pack of cigarettes
Mr White Man” I might appear sculpted but I've my pecs are smoke
and mirrors. Humps, lady humps, or perhaps even camel humps, because ladies, gentlemen and every one of you beautiful sentinent beings on or outside of the gender spectrum out there, I can now identify as a wank camel.
And I chalk this down to the fact that with low testosterone I now have the added superpower of being able to go a really long time without.. shooting fast swimming genetic material out my flesh cannon. Yes, I can go for about ten days in a row before I suddenly stop and think “My goodness, my balls feel so heavy today. Perhaps if there were some way to drain them, I would feel so much lighter and aerodynamic!” Which is lucky for me because my masturbatory tendencies have been entirely encroached upon by one person. Rupert Murdoch. Nevermind the fact he'll probably install more 5 G towers to give us all COVID 19. His parental shield on Sky Broadband prevents me accessing certain websites of uestionable moral integrity.. before midnight. Don't ask me why his parental shield seems to drop after midnight. I can only assume he employs some good natured mogwai who consume the pornography and prevent it from getting to me but when those four zeroes line up, they have to be removed fro the server lest we hear “GIZMO! GIVE ME BRAZZERS!”
So I'm basically the
Cinderella of handsheathing the meat sword. Except in reverse
because I get to the ballllls at “the stroke” of midnight.
You're probably thinking why not use your imagination or just scroll
a little bit more tactically through Instagram. Cultivate it so that
only practically pornographic pictures are coming up. Get all the
hash tags right - #thicc...penis. But my imagination doesn't
function that like any more. I'm 33, gone are the days when fourteen
year old me could stick on Countdown and bang one out into the coal
scuttle over Suzi from the dictionary corner. And somewhere since I
was fourteen and now, Channel 5 decided it was somehow, too cultured
to show soft core porn. I know it's utterly ridiculous the channel
that has brought you such uality programming such as ASBO and Proud,
The Sex Business: Swinging both ways, OAPs on the Game and World's
Most Scenic Railways decided “hey you know what? We don't need to
pretend to have sex any more.”
Because that's what soft
core is – they used to show this drama programme on Channel 5 with
Moulder out of the X-Files where he would go off and investigate
dirty stories and write them in his big dirty story book like one
where this sexy female bounty hunter is tracking down a sexy buff
criminal on the run from the law. Can you feel the sexual tension?
“Oh my, they're gonna bang..” and then you'd get a series of
steamy sex scenes where they might get topless but you'd be damned if
you're even going to get a peak of anything more because the
likelihood is that they were likely just pure dry humping in slow
motion. Being a soft core porn actor must be a shit job, I mean
you're expected to have a slightly higher standard of acting than a
hardcore porn actor, probably get paid less money and have to leave
set with a set of balls that are so blue they resemble my bald
epileptic mate's head after he had a fit whilst walking down a flight
of stairs. Anyway, the only benefit of being a soft core porn actor
is that you can have a small penis. In fact, fuck it – you don't
even need to have a penis. Nobody is going to check. Essentially,
I'd be great at it. My sex drive being as low as it is means that
since lockdown, I've only increased the number of days I don't have
sex each month by ten percent. So pretending I'm having sex would
come naturally for me. Maybe that's what I should be doing with my
career. Otherwise, who else are they going to get? Some very
monogomaous married guy “Um no.. my wife says it's not cheating if
I only lick your nipples and don't go too rough on your aeriolas.
God says it's only adultery if there's penetration.” So yeah,
going to look into that career option – gyrating my hips back and
forth like I'm failing at the hoola hoop.
I can't believe that when
I was fourteen and watching those shows, I would have to engage in
domestic espionage just to watch them. If I wanted to cry having
and let loose the protein tadpoles of war I would have two options –
one – feign tiredness and go to bed early, waiting for my parents
to do the same, then sneak around the hallways like the Solid Snake
of masturbation like an over eight year old trying to catch Santa
Claus deliver all the Christmas goodies or option two, program the
VCR with codes from Radio Times like I'm stealing crypto-currency
from a deep web drug dealer. At the time I even had a network of
spies sharing dossiers of dirt that they probably don't even print
any more. I don't know if I could look at 'Reader's Wives' any more,
never mind cover it in my DNA PVA. I don't have that pre-teen
porn-sharing secret-illuminati any more, so what do I do? Go up and
ask random eleven year olds if they've got any top shelf magazines?
Are you fucking kidding me? Eleven year olds have learned Filipino
knife fighting from YouTube by then. It'd go
“Hey kid.. you got any
di-”
“Have that you paedo
Aryan brotherhood bitch!”
With me shooting blood out
of sixteen different places out of my neck.
I did think of calling up
my old cum happy comrades from back in the day but figured it'd go
something like this
“Yo Wee Ryan!”
“Um nobody has called me
that in twenty years, I have a wife and kids now...”
“Wee Ryan, that's great
and all, wonderful reconnecting after all these years. Listen you
don't have any dirty magazines? Hello? Hello?”
So maybe you're thinking –
why nt ask your mum for the account details? I mean she's a grown
woman, she can undertand sometimes you need to wrangle the pinkest of
salmons. Well.. the thing is, I have done. We had a whole
“Mum, erm is there any
chance.. I can get the broadband passoword?”
“It's on the back of the
box.
“Um.. no.. the account
login. I need to change something that's blocking.. legitimate
websites.”
“Oh? What kind?”
“Umm... gambling.. under
21s.. 21s.. uhhh jacking black.. blackjack!”
“Well I'll take a look
and let you f I find them.
“Great! Thanks mum,
love you!”
Despite telling her that I
love her, she has not found the details. So I decided that perhaps
the reason that she hasn't is that she knows that Dad never sat down
to have “The Birds and the Bees” chat and sadly he passed away
ten years ago. So I decided what any horny teenager with a dead Dad
would do.. draw a pentagram on the floor in my own blood and summon
the spirit for my old man.
“What is it son? I'm
shagging the ghost of Suzi from Countdown here..” he said, in a
Northern English accent.. which he seemed to have acuired after
death.
“She's not dead though,.
Dad.”
“Look at her.. no woman
in her fifties can be that attractive. Unless she were a vampire..”
“Do vampires have
ghosts? How do you do it anyway?”
“What do you mean how do
I do it? Your other's still warm, I've got to shag something to pass
the time.”
“I mean.. it.. shagging?
How do I shag?”
“What do you mean how do
you shag? I've seen you shag. Terrible techniue. Much smaller
penis. You definitely don't have your father's package. Definitely
got it from your mother's side.”
“Well could you just
tell me.”
My ghost dad sighed.
“When a man loves a
woman..”
“Yes..”
“Why are you asking
this?”
“Well I feel the reason
mum isn't telling me the Sky Broadband parental shield password is to
stop me from wanking because I've never had 'the talk' with you”
“No, it's because she
wants you to do something more productive than wank all day. Also
she'd much rather not walk in on you shooting your man milk into the
coal scuttle in the middle of the day again. Grow up and get a proper
haircut. You look like you'd suck white supremacist penis for half a
pack of cigarettes.”
I write almost entirely for fun and because I love storytelling, but if you're feeling generous and want to throw a coin or two my way, below is my paypal tipping address. A fair amount of the money I spend these days goes on either writing classes or tipping other artists for bringing us cheer at this grim time, so I wouldn't say you're wasting too much if you do. Christ that last sentence is even more try hard.. What a virtue signalling piece of..
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