There is only one man I know who could get two pages of comments on a post about socks...
[post 491337]
There are an enormous amount of reasons why I find this particular induvidual fascinating, funny and worth knowing (knowing? Not the right word but I am wearing trousers that are too big)
A list of actual announcements that London Tube train drivers have made to their passengers...
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I do apologise for the delay to your service. I know you're all dying to get home, unless, of course, you happen to be married to my ex-wife, in which case you'll want to cross over to the Westbound and go in the opposite direction".
"Your delay this evening is caused by the line controller suffering from E & B syndrome, not knowing his elbow from his backside. I'll let you know any further information as soon as I'm given any."
"Do you want the good news first or the bad news? The good news is that last Friday was my birthday and I hit the town and had a great time. The bad news is that there is a points failure somewhere between Stratford and East Ham, which means we probably won't reach our destination."
"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay, but there is a security alert at Victoria station and we are therefore stuck here for the foreseeable future, so let's take our minds off it and pass some time together. All together now....'Ten green bottles, hanging on a wall.....'".
"We are now travelling through Baker Street, as you can see Baker Street is closed. It would have been nice if they had actually told me, so I could tell you earlier, but no, they don't think about things like that".
"Beggars are operating on this train, please do NOT encourage these professional beggars, if you have any spare change, please give it to a registered charity, failing that, give it to me."
During an extremely hot rush hour on the Central Line, the driver announced in a West Indian drawl: "step right this way for the sauna, ladies and gentleman... unfortunately towels are not provided".
"Let the passengers off the train FIRST!" (Pause ...) "Oh go on then, stuff yourselves in like sardines, see if I care - I'm going home...."
"Please allow the doors to close.Try not to confuse this with 'Please hold the doors open'. The two are distinct and separate instructions."
"Please note that the beeping noise coming from the doors means that the doors are about to close. It does not mean throw yourself or your bags into the doors."
"We can't move off because some idiot has their f****ng hand stuck in the door"
"To the gentleman wearing the long grey coat trying to get on the second carriage - what part of 'stand clear of the doors' don't you understand?"
"Please move all baggage away from the doors (Pause..) Please move ALL belongings away from the doors (Pause...) This is a personal message to the man in the brown suit wearing glasses at the rear of the train - put the pie down, four-eyes, and move your bloody golf clubs away from the door before I come down there and shove them up your a**e sideways"
"May I remind all passengers that there is strictly no smoking allowed on any part of the Underground. However, if you are smoking a joint, it's only fair that you pass it round the rest of the carriage".
And that my darlings is where 'Mind the Doormouse' comes from....
I didn't really feel the joy on the drive down. Didn't really feel the usual rush as I walked through the doors and greeted the staff. Didn't really feel much at all.
Then I lumbered (and when I say lumbered I mean lumbered) to change. Latex. Black. Two parts. One effect. No fucking talc. Fuck fuck fuck. Ten minutes of rolling around like a demented weasel and I was in. Kinda, the sweat would have to sort out the kinks.
They started to arrive, slowly at first and we all chatted as we do, a few drinks, who's brought what, who was new, who needed to be introduced to whom. My DJ left for a cigarette and the music stopped. For two minutes. I started everyone on a chorus of 'Kumbayaa' as you do...It's quite a sight, 100 people in full fetish gear holding candles aloft and singing hymns. When he came back I dragged him to the bar to say sorry. Then he started. Dirty dirty DIRTY music. It got hotter, I glance up to see someone tied in a stunning Hogtie worthy of Midori herself. Then another one. Then another. Three little pigs tied up on the dancefloor, with nothing but feet in their ears and faces flat to the floor, arses in the air in some kind of semi-mocking salute to the wolves swaying above them.
Then it happened. BANG. That internal vision. Someone's going to get hurt, I'm practically drooling now because I've seen her; tiny, Italian, poured into latex and chains, hair that looked like coffee and probably smelt the same. I ignored her glances, her pleading eyes, her timid chat.
I pick up a house slave, go for a smoke. Use him as an ashtray, he thanks me profusely. Of course he does. Take him up to the dungeon. A cross in the corner, a crop, a candle, an amusing incident with a glass of piss and a show of viciousness so real it draws a crowd that have to be held back so I can get a good swing and people crane to hear spite whispered and spat into his ear.
She's there, behind me. I know this. I can almost hear her flinch every time that CRACK sounds upon his skin. I risk a glance, although I know my eyes are glazed and rolling, full of heat and hate and I shan't really see her clearly. She's pleading, equally filmy eyes, sweating slightly, desperate for me to stop and turn to her, equally desperate to watch the car crash that is happening in front of her eyes. Two of my watchers have been primed to keep a clear eyeline between her and me and they do so with such skill that I don't think she ever realised.
I stop. Ruffle the hair of my boy and tell him to go. I turn to my friends and ignore her completely to chat and laugh and bemoan my aching arm.
A tiny tap on my shoulder. She couldn't ask herself, her friend extends his compliments and asks to make an introduction to the little coffee haired girl who would very much like to be restrained on the wheel and suffer.
I turned back to my crowd and carried on holding court with nothing more than a slow nod in her direction.
It all got a bit intense after that...I can still smell her.
Washed, dried, moisturised, blow-dried and trimmed the fringe of the armpit dog. IT IS GOING HOME!
It looks like a cotton bud.
I will miss the little fucker, this is for sure -it sits in a little basket (yes I bought it a little basket - fuck off) on the front of my bike wrapped in a little blanket and lets the wind whip through his mohawk.
He also hangs off the ears and lip of the Corso and you've got to respect the little cunt for his bravado.
What I will not miss is the FUCKING WHINING.
Aside from that, my thoughts are burbling over throttling people. Or even better, putting them in the position where they can throttle themselves. There's nothing more enchanting than the words:
"you were going to kill me, I saw it scudding across your face like a cloud, then it was gone"
If you are unaware of Dylan Moran, either in Black books, or his rather marvellous stand-up then give yourself some self-flaggelation, get thee to your finest online DVD purveyor and GET HIM!
I am listening to 'monster' now, and crying with laughter - even though I have heard it three times this week, and infinite amounts of time since it was relesed.
Also responsible for the fact that my most beloved sister and I are forever saying "UP WITH THIS I WILL NOT PUT!" in a very strident voice.
I will not quote him further. Suffice to say geddim. Geddim geddim geddim.
*********
Anyway. I am having a bondage party on Saturday, as you do, mainly because it's....well it's Saturday innit?
"Always view the World as it is, not as you would wish it to be"
This is an excellent phrase. It was made (in this form, although it has been used in various ways throughout time) in a discussion about BDSM - I know, I know, I do actually talk about it from time to time...
In this instance it was the presence of single males at certain fetish events and whether they were a necessary evil to support the night or a complete pain in the arse and should all be ejected into the gutter and have pus poured all over them.
Now, I personally quite like a well-behaved single guy at an event. But then I quite like badly behaved ones too because then we can all stand around being very self-important and shouting 'Rhubarb' a lot in a weary/indignant fashion.
I've taken a lot of time creating and managing events where men are welcome on their own, and making sure they go out into the scene a little more savvy on etiquette, hygiene (Oh yes - forced showers) and good manners.
I'd like to hear from single guys, and those that love/loathe them at an event (if you ever hear me say the word munch - shoot me. Really) about their experiences. Do you get left out? Do you wonder why?
Do you actively ignore single guys? Or are you welcoming? Funny stories? If I get enough good ones I'll tell you all about my favourite.
PS - I have noticed a funny thing - possibly single guy related. My watchers fall every time there is a drought of pictures of me on my blog. Quelle surprise.
Previously on Lady C's inbox tour we have marvelled at the absolute gonad that decided to critique me with the caveat "No Offense". Remember? Yes? Good.
In my infinite stupidity I may have replied and directed it to your lovely comments, AND NOW IT WON'T GO AWAY! However; such fucking gems is it coming up with I now can't stop reading:
MMM - Bad, good or indifferent i am me, to change, even within blog, would be wrong.you have a nice figure (very nice) and if you wish to talk to me please do (but please be constructive to start) best wishes ......... Z**** - or and if you feel you can improve, please do (no offence)
Great to hear back from you, I am on my 2nd bottle of retzina at the moment, so sorry for before! - you still have a great figure though.... Z****
Now....hehehehehe...now.....HEHEHEHE. I can't stop giggling. I actually have no response to this shite. I throw open the floor.