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Captain Fabulous 0:Technology 1,243,429

Beat it, Ermintrude! I did not type in these bloody headings! [You can tell that by the quality of the spelling. Ermintrude] And I understand technology things lots, too. [No you don’t. Ermintrude] It’s the damned e-mail thing that keeps playing up! [Shouting at the computer never works, Sweetie. Ermintrude] Bah! I tried to make the stupid thing work again a couple of minutes ago, then got a phone call from EdZilla asking me why I have just sent her a copy of the same stuff I sent her two weeks ago! I hate everybody! [Don’t worry; it’s mutual. Ermintrude] And what’s this pish about me being an ‘unreconstructed chauvinist pig‘? Most of my mates would take it as a compliment; once they had worked out what it meant. When I politely enquired if what she really had intended  was ‘sensitive aesthete’, she let out a guffaw that would not have been out of place in a Commando barracks. So I asked her how her diet was getting on…

Brute Force and Pignorance

Funny thing; I could have sworn my parents were married when I was born. And as for the suggestion for where I could put my new MacMini; well; it wouldn’t fit there for a start; and it might affect its signal. However, EdZilla assured me she could make it fit perfectly. It appeared to involve a pair of rubber washing-up gloves, ‘Marigolds’, I believe; and an unconscionable amount of ‘K Y Jelly’. I tried to calm her down by telling her the ‘size isn’t everything’; then she told me to go and stick my head in a place that is not fit for mixed company. I was about to make an educated guess as to the real cause of her tense, nervous attitude, with some witty references to lunar phases, when she warned me that if I ever wanted to see my balls again, I would put a sock in it. Eeeek! Then she hung up.

All Grist to the Thrill

Ho hum. Time for some more book work. Must be finished soon, so Mac can get a feel for the content and then create a jacket which catches the eye. My suggestions to date have met with a polite silence. Okay. So maybe not a used French Letter, with oil rather than sperm oozing out. (The penultimate punch-up takes place on an oil-rig.) The truncheon was always going to be a no-no. And the banana – how else can she expect to get her five a day? I suggested some product placement, but Mac thought the electric toothbrush company might not approve. And it would probably short-circuit anyway. Some people can be so hide-bound and reactionary to new art forms. ‘Installations’ nowadays, apparently. Not unlike what EdZilla is going to install in my rectum when she gets her hands on me, according to Valkerie; who just happened to call, to see if I was still alive. Cow! Mac thinks I have a death-wish.

 Last Willy and Testament

But the real problem is that so many chicks are too thin-skinned. You know; a bit too ‘Gossamer’ or ‘Featherlite’; geddit? [No! Ermintrude] It seems that what they really are after is ‘respect’. Which is kind of odd. I mean. I respect the Police; but I wouldn’t want to go to bed with them; well, maybe one or two of the pretty ones. I respect the right of oncoming traffic from the right at a roundabout; but I don’t want to shag a Mini Cooper, never mind a forty ton DAF truck. But I do respect the right of all chicks to be treated equally: kisses first, on the lips, cheeks, ears and neck; hooters massaged, stroked and nibbled; then ditto the naughty bits; then coitus uninterruptus. What could be more respectful than that? And no jokes about the stretch marks or cellulite. Mac says I ought to avoid dark places for a while; and change my daily travel routine. I assure him that a box of Milk Tray and a bunch of red roses the next day, normally does the trick. (Unless they’re on a diet. EdZ)