To Clunt Or Not To Clunt

Cunt and Clunt.

I was telling my mother the other week about the difference between the word Cunt and the word Clunt. She doesn't like to swear, or hear me swear so I was telling her that if you are so inclined, you can call someone a Clunt and not feel bad. You're not actually calling them a cunt, but you are really. A guilt free swearing theory.

I met up with her yesterday and was thrilled to hear her comment to me about some inconsequential person. She called him a Clock. Haha.

I had to explain to her that while i enjoyed her innovation, it didn't quite fit into the guilt free swearing theory.

Ah, bless her, she is 63.

Never Tell The Truth

I was talking to my best friend in Australia today and he was telling me another humorous story about his love life. I really can't be bothered to go into details. The bit that made me laugh out loud until tears were flowing freely, was when he told me how he stopped himself from cumming too quickly whilst shagging some new bird he had pulled.

He basically made a pizza in his head from scratch. Made the dough, rolled it out, added the sauce, cheese and other toppings. Put it in the oven at 225 for 20 minutes (he actually envisaged waiting the 20 minutes) and viola, he came like a charging elephant. Very funny stuff. The thing is I got carried away when I told him my version. This only happened once by the way.

Don't judge me.

When I was in school, there was a heavily autistic kid in my class. His name was next to mine on the register so my form tutor made me look after him for the first year of school. It was a very big school, about 2000 pupils. Subsequently it was pretty easy to get lost. Brilliant way to have to start your school year.

Anyway, this kid had a kind of Tourettes thing going on too. He was a big lad and would stop walking for no reason and shout swear words at the top of his voice. All of this was done whilst dribbling. It is pretty hard to attract female attention when you have a hulking swear machine dribbling onto you. I didn't like this kid very much. Not his fault I know, but I was 12 years old, what do you expect?

Back to what I was saying originally. I was swapping stories with my drunk friend in Australia. I told him that one time I pulled this absolutely gorgeous girl. I was punching well above my weight here and I knew it. We went out one night and after many drinks, me and this amazing girl go back to mine. She had made it abundantly clear that my luck was in that night and so the pressure was on so to speak. One thing leads to another and we start having sex. I knew I wasn't going to last long at all and needed to stop myself from cumming too quickly. I racked my brain for the most disgusting image it held and the thing that popped up was this autistic kid from school. I hadn't thought of this guy for maybe 6 or 7 years and he chooses now to pop into my head.

To clarify, I was shagging the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. For the first time. And here I was thinking about a 12 year old spastic shouting the word "CUNT" at the top of his voice whilst dribbling. Well, it certainly had the desired effect. Only thing was it happened too well and my erection rapidly lost all interest in this Amazon beneath me. I swear I tried so hard to not think of this kid. You try it now. It is impossible. Once that image is there, it is GOING NOWHERE.

Needless to say she wasn't too impressed with me. I did try to explain to her what had happened in the hope that she would think it was sweet that I needed to stop myself. Thinking of her. She asked me what I had thought of and like a fucking idiot I told her, hoping she would find it funny. She didn't, and neither did I as I watched her get dressed and get the fuck out of my house.

My brilliant life.

Vindictive Wasps Are Funny

I just got back from the pub. I was there with a friend and we took a table outside as we are both smokers. What with it being a Sunday, the pub makes a brisk trade selling roasts. A Sunday staple all over the UK. There were a couple of gay dudes chowing down on a full plate of perfect Sunday fare when they, or rather their roasts, drew the attention of a wasp. Being immensely camp they both blew it out of proportion by squealing and getting up from their table and attempting to shoo it away, thus aggravating the wasp. Cue good natured laughter from myself and my friend. My friends laughter was more muted as she is a lady, very well brought up, not from me though. I was finding the whole thing particularly funny. Gay men flapping about in public are funny. Come to think of it, anyone flapping about unnecessarily is funny, especially if they are in distress. They both took offence at our mirth which obviously made it funnier than girls doing sports. That was pretty much it apart from dark and attempted threatening looks from the 2 dudes, which made me laugh even harder. It reminded me of a story that I am sure I haven't told you guys before. If I have, ignore me. I was having a hard time with a girlfriend, we were arguing a lot and decided to take a drive into the countryside and grab lunch at a picturesque pub and talk it through. We found this idyllic place with a history that spanned back at least 500 years that served food overlooking a medieval town. Very nice. If I recall correctly it was the height of summer and a balmy afternoon. We sat down outside, shades on and determined to thrash out our problems. Now this girl was particularly well brought up and disapproved of my foul language and cantankerous ways so I was on my best behaviour. We ordered some drinks and studied the menu together. The menu was made from a piece of laminated paper that was stuck, upright, into a small block of wood. Well, this wasp comes sniffing round the two of us and my girlfriend started to get a bit distressed so I grabbed the first shooing device to hand, the menu, and went to shoo it away inconsequentially. As I picked the menu up and swung it gently at the wasp, the block of wood it was sitting in was still attached and when I swung the menu it flew off and hit my girlfriend in the face. It was a gentle contact between block of wood and face but instantly I laughed. Not major guffawing but a little giggle. Her face registered shock at the contact and hurt at my laughter. That made me laugh more, unfortunately, my laughter made her start crying. Right about now I was caught up in an inescapable loop. The harder I laughed, the harder she cried and vice versa. By this point I was laughing quite hard. I was really trying to stop but you know what happens when laughter is forbidden. Yep, I really started to laugh. She took massive umbrage at this and got up in a huff, grabbed the car keys and went crying loudly to the car. She opened the door and got inside the car, taking her shades off so she could wipe the tears from her eyes. My laughter was just about dying down when I saw her flapping her arms about madly in the car. It was then I realised that the self same wasp had followed her into the car. I heard her scream, and I realised that the little striped bastard had stung her whilst in the car. Now, I have been told that my laugh has two distinct qualities. 1. It is very loud and 2. It is infectious. The whole pub is now avidly following the events and all are smiling at least. The nicer people were at least trying to hide the fact they thought this was funny as they maybe felt empathy with my girlfriend. The nastier patrons were laughing as hard as I was. It was at this point that I started to have apoplectic fits. I was laughing so hard that I actually fell off the bench I was sitting on, no sound was coming out of my mouth. Totally silent laugh. She saw this and started crying even more and with an increasing volume. I calmly finished my drink, informed the waitress that we wouldn't be eating here after all and got back into the car. We drove back in stony silence. Ah, I prove to myself that I am a nasty piece of work by remembering this fondly. We finished with each other soon after this.