And then you have this prize pair of morons, who insist on giving us (via The Sun ) oretty much a thrust-by-thrust account of their sex life during one of the many lockdowns in the recent past, e.g.:
Day 3: We’ve been at it like rabbits
LISA says: It’s the first week into our second lockdown and tensions are already rising from being cooped up together, but we are both really eager to give this experiment a go.
We stocked up with lockdown supplies – and no, I don’t mean loo roll. We’re being playful with each other, and we’re focusing more on foreplay.
When we’ve disagreed, we’ve had sex. For these few days, we’ve been at it like rabbits. We’re often slinging our gear on to the floor and jumping straight into bed.
During the first lockdown, morning sex was unheard of, but now we’re squeezing that in too.
We really want to take our relationship to the next level, so we have asked each other about our fantasies too.
As if government-imposed home arrest (lockdowns) aren’t enough of a problem, they’ve also given us this kind of nonsense.
If I was cooped up with either of them, the greatest risk would be murder or else suicide. The fact that they give us their real names is proof, as though any were needed, of their utter shamelessness. (“Spike van der Merwe” — a South African surname, btw — is way too fucked-up to be fictitious.)
I think that in the interests of justice, every time a politician suggests a lockdown, he or she should be forced to spend the entire lockdown period with one of these two, depending on gender or orientation. (Lesbianists with Spike, homos with Lisa.)
The lockdown would be measured in hours, not weeks.
We’re all familiar with the story of the classic 1940s movie Brief Encounter, where Trevor Howard and the exquisite Celia Johnson meet by chance at a railway station, and over a period of time are increasingly tempted to have a little extramarital fling. (They don’t, of course, because morality and conscience and also because it wasn’t in the script.)
Nowadays, it appears, people seem to have little time for morality or anything other than a quick knee-trembler under similar circumstances:
Kate Jackson has also been handed a 12 month community order after the ‘al fresco’ romp in front of shoppers at 3.43pm. Jackson, 40, was waiting for a train home in Stalybridge, Greater Manchester on August 10 when she realised the train was delayed.
While waiting she got chatting with a stranger before passers-by saw her having intercourse with 44-year old Jonathon Pisani shortly after.
The pair both admitted outraging public decency, with Pisani due to appear in court for sentencing in December.
This being Manchester, of course, one should not be surprised and doubly so, considering the appearance of the coupling commuters. [barf bag may be necessary: follow link at own risk]
I do have a random thought arising from this, though: if the woman has already been sentenced, why should it take more than another month to pass sentence on the man?
Perhaps my Brit Readers can cast light on the topic, once they’re done being violently ill.
Also, I need to make a note of the term al fresco romp, just for future reference when talking about coupling en plain air.
I’m told that this is the new term for underage sex partners, although given that I’m at the “wrinkled prune” stage of life myself, I fail to see what I’m supposed to do with this information.
Anyway, here’s a sample of the above, this time from Strylia:
A former Tiger Air flight attendant who had sex with a 15-year-old boy has been released on bail after spending only one week in jail.
Melissa Nosti, from North Ryde in northern Sydney, had sex with a student at the school she used to work at as an attendance officer back in 2010.
You have to applaud her willingness to go the extra mile just to get the little scrote to stay in school — the parallel thought being that I bet that attendance among the other little scrotes was sky-high if she was spreading the love, so to speak. And if her pictures are anything to go by, she probably was.
The only reason I noticed this at all is that the suburb where all this fresh fruit was being plucked is right next door to where the Sydney branch of my adopted family now lives. (New Wife’s two sons and their wives live in Oz and Seffrica, respectively.)
Let’s see: because #feminismrules, you assign a female guard to an all-men’s prison. What could possibly go wrong?
Quite a lot, apparently.
Lauren McIntyre, 32, is accused of having a sexual relationship with convicted double murderer Andrew Roberts over a four-month period at HMP Isle of Wight, Metro reported.
Prison guard McIntyre — believed to be a mother-of-two— is accused of willfully and without reasonable excuse or justification misconducting herself in a way which amounted to an abuse of the public’s trust in the office holder because she had secret sex with murderer Roberts.
And the choirboy?
Roberts was convicted of strangling girlfriend Louise L’Homme, 23, and their eight-month-old daughter at the home they shared in 2003. He is serving a life term in prison.
This is what happens when you mix men and women together in a closed environment. (And for the benefit of the dense: whether it’s in a prison, a co-ed campus dormitory or on board a Navy ship, they’re gonna have sex.) ‘Twas ever thus, and no amount of Feministical Theory or Woeful Handwringing will prevent it.
In the old days, prison guards were called “screws”. Nowadays, that nickname seems to have a whole different meaning, dunnit?
Today we feature the “All Sex, All The Time“-type roundup, with commentary shorter than Jerrold Nadler’s dick. [sorry]
…ummm Wayne, dude: there’s this thing called a “vasectomy”…
…and given that he’s not rich, I think the newspaper owes us a tasteful pic of his erect phallus, so we can see just what this guy’s appeal is.
…and you were slut-shamed because you were a choirgirl, right?
…“sparent”? What’s that, Lassie? Hoofbeats?
…given that her pool of likely suitors will come entirely from fanbois inside NASCAR Nation, I’d say her prospects are even slimmer than she thinks.
…and when you’ve lost gayboi Graham Norton…
…not to mention a distinct shortage of willing penises.
…if she’s going to get all her lovers’ faces tattooed there, she’s going to need ElastaGirl arms.
…the main question being: did we really need to know this about the late?
…hate to break it to you darlin’, but nobody cares why. Here’s the proof:
Much better than Gwinnie’s bony ass.
Not every business has been adversely affected by the Chinkvirus and Gummint lockdowns:
A businesswoman who sells sex dolls has revealed how her company has been thriving throughout the pandemic, and that she’s noticed an increase in sales each time a new lockdown restriction comes into place.
Jade Stanley, 36, from Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, launched her company Sex Doll Official in 2018, and sells and rents plastic sex companions, some of which can cost up to £8,000, to ‘lonely’ customers.
The mother-of-four explained that due to widespread isolation during the coronavirus crisis, she saw surges in sales every time there was a change in lockdown rules, insisting customers want ‘more than just a sex toy’.
She also revealed that she’s noticed a much bigger demand for male and transgender sex dolls, and told there’s a ‘big market’ for couples who want to involve a ‘safe third party’ in the bedroom.
That might just be the thunder of horses’ hooves you’re hearing in the distance.
So just what does this little hotbed town of kinky sex look like? Something like this:
…and further down the High Street:
Alert Readers may have noticed in the above pic one of Kim’s Favoritest Places In Britishland: Greggs, purveyors of fine pies and finer sausage rolls. Things are not so rosy there:
Since reopening on July 2, the Newcastle-based firm’s like-for-like sales averaged at 71.2 per cent of its levels from 2019 for the 12-week period to September 26.
Greggs was performing well before the crisis its shares hit a record high of 2,550p in January. But they closed yesterday at 1,219p, down 47 per cent in the year to date.
So to all my Brit Readers, I beseech you: start Kim’s “Every Meal With Greggs©” program with immediate effect, and to hell with your waistlines.
Your sex dolls won’t complain, I promise you.