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Square Pegs in Round Holes
 
Observations and discussions about sex, madness and other entirely normal things. All written with an impeccable English accent
Keywords | Title View | Refer to a Friend |
Kill Someone With Kindness...
Posted:Jun 28, 2007 2:12 pm
Last Updated:Sep 8, 2010 6:11 am
2371 Views

In Finland, a farmer arrived home to find a large wooden out-building ablaze. To his horror, he could hear the screams of his trapped wife inside.

The heat and smoke was too great to enter and so he turned to some heavy duty water pumping equipment. Madly, he connected it up, smashed a window and began pumping vast quantities of water inside to quell the blaze.

After ten minutes, his wife's calls having now stopped, the fire appeared to have died. Feverishly the farmer broke through the blackened doorway with a flashlight to look for his wife. Caling out loudly to her without response he dashed around looking for the places she might have hidden. Finally, in a small cupboard room inside a furniture chest, he found her - she was dead. Heartbroken, he quickly noticed that she was completely intact and peaceful. Just then the awful truth dawned on him: she hadn't burned or been overcome by fumes. She had drowned.

You see, it is possible to kill someone with kindness.
0 Comments
How Different Are We?
Posted:Jun 24, 2007 4:56 am
Last Updated:Jun 28, 2007 3:47 pm
2308 Views

How different are men and women? I mean really different. Forget all the unproven received wisdom about Mars, Venus and multi-tasking.

If someone wrote to you and conversed entirely normally, except for omitting obvious references to their gender, how likely would it be that you could tell whether they were male or female?
Impossibly Unlikely.
Unlikely.
Depends on who it was.
It's likely I could tell the difference.
It's very likely I could tell the difference.
It would be totally bloody obvious! People always give away their gender.
2 Comments , 8 votes
What goes on tour...
Posted:Jun 6, 2007 4:00 am
Last Updated:Jun 6, 2007 7:42 am
2212 Views
The Irish boys are on tour, all rowdy in the restaurant. Jimmy's wife's six months pregnant back home and all week he's been hitting the golf ball a mile in frustration. The taverna is packed and service is slow. As the eight of them roar away with fictional tales of sexual conquest, Jimmy begins to sweat. "I need to get some cigs from across the road. Anyone want anything from the shop?" A pause, a shake of heads and he's off out the door.

Bernard returns from the toilet a moment later, "Aye, did I just see Jimmy going into the brothel across the street?" ... stunned silence. Gary looks puzzled, "Cheeky bastard said he was out for cigarettes." There's a look between them but what goes on tour stays on tour.

Twenty minutes pass. The starters have arrived but not Jimmy. Bernard's gone to the toilet again, carrying his prostate with him. Karl laughs, "Jeese! There's a run on cigarettes. The queue must be massive!" Just then, Jimmy lumbers back, out of breath but hair slicker than ever before. He tries to go unnoticed, but they all smirk. "Cigarettes put up a fight did they?" Gary chortles, moon-faced and a mouthful of haloumi cheese. Jimmy mumbles, "Aye. The queue was massive." He looks uneasy as they laugh.

"Sure you didn't accidentally fall into the cat house there Jimmy?" Karl grins and pushes up his glasses.
"Did I feck! I needed a smoke."
Paul growls, "You're looking a bit sweaty there young Jimmy. Must have been a hell of a weight!"
"Ah feck the lot of yer!" He turns away in a sulk.

Bernard returns from the toilet. He's a bit drunk, so does up his flies near the table. "Hey Jimmy! Great to see yer. Did yer get lost crossing the street there?"
"Aggh, piss off you an' all!" Bernard smiles for a second, "Nay bother Jimmy." An awkward pause, the sweat dripping from Jimmy's brow. "Just one small detail..." Bernard continues, grinning broadly from ear to ear.
"What the feck!" Jimmy snaps back.
"While you were out getting cigarettes..."
"YES?"
"... well... how come yer T-Shirt got turned inside out?" Jimmy looks down slowly, in disguised horror. He then looks for a hole to disappear into, but it's not there. Everyone roars with laughter, repeating the line over and over again. Jimmy's face goes the color of red lobster as it arrives at the table. They all tuck in. What goes on tour stays on tour.
0 Comments
Get Your Cock Out of My Chrysler!
Posted:May 14, 2007 2:43 pm
Last Updated:Jun 4, 2007 7:05 am
2147 Views
The busy pedestrian shopping area I walk through most days is patrolled by vicious predators carrying clipboards. They descend on you if you mistakenly make eye contact, attempting to ask all manner of questions relating to famous household products. Presumably, they do this so that the company can more effectively target their advertising in future or, "fuck with your mind" as I prefer to think of it.

Normally I have a fictitious appointment already prepared for which I'm unfathomably late, but today I was caught unaware and foolishly agreed to answer five simple questions about film.

Four of them were dull matters of when and how regularly I visited the cinema. But question five was, "What is the most memorable line in a film you've seen?" This unexpectedly profound query stopped me dead for a moment. Did they really expect people to come straight out with a neatly prepared answer to this conundrum, in the middle of the street?

"Get your cock out of my Chrysler!" I said, with a hint of panic.
"I beg your pardon?!" The interviewer squawked in alarm.
With a sheepish grin I replied, "It's from 'Me, Myself and Irene'".
"Oh....I see." She said "But I can't put that down. It's rude." She appeared perturbed.

That annoyed me a bit. They ask a question and then only accept certain answers. So, I thought for another moment and shouted back, "Then fuck you! Fuck you lady!" She reared back in horror and scuttled away without saying a word.

I didn't mean to offend her. That was Joe Pesci in Casino. What's your favourite line from a movie?
0 Comments
Note To Self
Posted:Nov 17, 2006 12:09 pm
Last Updated:Jun 6, 2007 3:17 am
2522 Views

He circled the personal ad with excitement. At last, someone who wanted what he had to offer. He dialled the number and left a voice message introducing his name and a few other details. To his amazement, the very next evening he received a call from Miss A.

"Hello you." She said in a warm, chocolatey voice.
"Hi." He croaked nervously.
"I just had to call and ask you something."
"Oh... Go on then." The nerves worsened.
"Well, it was nice to know you like animals and do sudoku. But why did you ruin it by telling me you're on job seekers' allowance?"

A pause.

"Ruin it?" He gasped. "I thought that was what you wanted."
"Sorry? Why would I ever fantasise about a man on job seekers' allowance?!"
"'Friends on benefits'. That's what you said. I thought you were claiming too."

There was a dreadful gap. A moment of absolute dark silence before Miss A burst into hysterical fits of giggles. "Oh you poor thing!" she whimpered between tears of laughter. "Friends with benefits you silly." She could picture his shamed face and her heart melted. He seemed like a nice man - if a little daft.

He slumped on the sofa at his end, trying to squeeze into the smallest possible ball. She fell all about the sofa at her end, taking a good minute to regain herself.

For a second she thought about it. The ice was broken, along with his pride. A nice man on benefits who can do sudoku - that wouldn't be much of a threat. But she recovered her senses enough to realise that this just wasn't her fantasy. So she made the most heartfelt and consiliatory excuse possible and said goodbye. She put down the phone at her end and smiled the smile of the righteous. He put down the phone at his end and died the smallest possible death. The one that only men endure when faced with the rejection of a woman.

"Note to self - look up 'friends with benefits'."
"Note to self - job seekers' allowance not sexy."
4 Comments
One Night Stand
Posted:Oct 23, 2006 9:25 am
Last Updated:Oct 25, 2006 1:01 pm
2379 Views
Made love to a woman the very first date,
she got there tipsy and I got there late.
The taxi was plenty, she said she was twenty,
My head thought "ID?" but my pants couldn't wait.

Her G-spot was almost the size of my hat,
she'd shaved every inch of her delicate twat.
I asked if she'd suck me, she said, "shut up, fuck me!"
It's rude to ignore a request like that.

She knelt as I kissed every inch from behind,
then shivered and said that I fucked with her mind,
the sofa looked shocked as my spaceship docked,
and an earthquake was measured just outside Glynde.

She came in my arms at a flattering speed,
and screamed as I held her, "I want all your seed!"
So I let her enter my garden centre,
I opened the packet and poured in some feed.

We did it again for an hour or more,
the mind was strong but our insides were sore,
I made her tea as she went for a wee,
and later I learnt how much women can snore.

We woke in the morning and instantly kissed,
as meaningful sober as when we were pissed,
we showered and dressed both enormously blessed,
she left for abroad. She's eternally missed.
3 Comments
Ticklish
Posted:Sep 20, 2006 2:11 pm
Last Updated:Oct 22, 2006 7:42 am
2500 Views
A stranger's touch is a dead nerveless sound. A poke is thin-eyed pain. But when you threaten me with fingers; creep at me with an eye to say, "I'm coming to get you!" I shiver and become an agony of mile high giggles.

I'll run a radius, a formiddable circle in avoidance of your hyperdermic guitarist's nails, to cower by the dresser in utter smiling hatred.

You can corner me, I'll let you. Send me wicked stares with a flex of those hands that touch my skin from ten yards away and make me dread you with a passion!

I want you to stop. I want you to go so much I pray for relief in hysterical mumbles. But if you did - ran off and left me for a Sunday Newspaper - I'd miss it. I'd slump in painful nothing on our numb duvet nest to die a lonely little stranger's death.

So go on! Go with a wink and threaten me again in that claw-fingered pose I love hate so much.

Please?
1 comment
Valleys Of You
Posted:Sep 6, 2006 2:43 pm
Last Updated:Sep 10, 2006 12:03 pm
2469 Views
Sing me a lullaby,
sing it again with melody O's to breathe you in.

Kiss me a story,
kiss it again with sweat moisture rhythm and tongue touching sin.

The sun rubs our cheeks with curly new fingers
squinting through haze at your giggling eyes.
The grass on our backs lies all drowsy and combed
no breath or breeze to tickle its thighs.

The smooth of my hand could mould wondrous curves
and precipitous falls in the clay of your neck.
Shoulders are mountains and valleys are breasts,
gaping below me. I gasp at the drop.

Make love a poem and don't ever stop...
2 Comments
Five Socks Weather
Posted:Sep 4, 2006 4:41 am
Last Updated:Sep 10, 2006 12:03 pm
2446 Views
It's the kind of chill to make badgers weep
with a vertical rain poking holes into sheep

There's accompanying fog through which you can't see
and a drip drip damp making old men wee

They forecast snow which is possibly white
in the kind of dark that you can't see at night

There'll be buffeting winds turning cows into leather
what a miserable country - it's five socks weather!
1 comment
Moving Train
Posted:Sep 3, 2006 1:20 am
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2006 10:18 am
2604 Views
The railway tracks below me move like scratches on a movie cross the frame outside the window and I'm going back to London in a carriage full of smokers who are banned from sparking rollies in a long no smoking section as they're getting rather tetchy without leaves between their fingers so the atmosphere is hissing to the noise of wheezy laughter and the grass is blurring upward as we clatter down a valley Gipsy Rosie reads a paper from the lower end of Fleet Street while performing circus tricks with plastic coffee and a biscuit on her lap as gentle George who's spying watchfully from opposite disguised behind a copy of the Amateur Photographer makes disenchanted noises sensing imminent disaster as the coffee reaches orbit and he joins it when his kashmir coat is splattered brown with Java so the mood is turning crazy as the babies and the toddlers start to scream with fear and anger and the parents' eyes turn skyward wishing God had made them sterile while I'm hoping that my fingers act as serviceable earplugs because otherwise I'll join them in this mood of railway bedlam howling words unkown to but I'm sure this blasted rhythm that is clacking down below me has corrupted all our minds and made us start to think just like a moving train!
2 Comments
The Cloud
Posted:Aug 30, 2006 1:55 am
Last Updated:Sep 10, 2006 12:07 pm
2505 Views
Turn your eyes a vertical and witness my domain,
of inverse twisting butterflies and looking down on rain;
of curved eternal distance, always sun upon our backs,
with endless ocean vistas peeping shy between the cracks.

Perhaps you think you've seen me pulling faces in the air,
my glowing liquid edges forming Elvis then Astaire.
My autograph is moisture - I sign without request,
but wait for sinful moments when you're outside underdressed.

In high sun on occasion my electric hair ascends,
you hear the lightning clatter as I bump into my friends.
But summer sees me timid creeping mostly through the hills,
saving strength for winter and a belly full of chills.

I've a repetoire of seasons, I'm a thespian of sky,
in a trice from strata cumulus to bombs of ice, then dry.
I race on wings of vapour or if sleepy simply jog
and condescend to join you for an afternoon of fog.

At night I wear a shawl of black and envy you your heat,
the fires of the city glow like coals beneath my feet.
I wish that you could touch me here, I cannot feel your love.
To clouds you seem as far below as stars seem far above.
4 Comments
From Space
Posted:Aug 26, 2006 2:15 am
Last Updated:Sep 8, 2010 6:16 am
2483 Views
From space every sea is calm and every ocean blue, trimmed white with clouds and rainbows. From space even the highest wave smears gentle with a finger.

From space every jungle treads green, soft carpet beneath my tickling feet. Animals drape serene like baubles from the branches and birds blow as dust, sticking to the bees and berries.

From space every prey is predator in the colorful circle dance of nature. Everything eats and is eaten, with the dead turned useful by another.

------------------

From sea even the smallest swell makes you feel unwell and towering breakers loom like falling granite mountains.

From jungle every tooth stalks quietly hunting; the green made nursery for a thousand deaths.

From the predator, life is an endless watchtower for the stares of those who find them tasty. Every upward glance finds a mobbing bird to haunt their hunger.

--------------------

We view every other's life as if from outer space - while living on the sea. That's why I wish I was sometimes you and you wish you were sometimes me.
2 Comments
It's easy to forget Joseph Bazalgette...
Posted:Aug 23, 2006 3:22 am
Last Updated:Aug 25, 2006 1:24 am
2460 Views
If it wasn't for the sewer,
London would be pooer.
0 Comments

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Recent Visitors

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Most Recent Comments by Others

Post Poster Post Date
Kill Someone With Kindness... (3)silkypants6
Jun 29, 2007 2:14 am
Note To Self (8)ShyWhisper2006
Dec 23, 2006 2:19 am
One Night Stand (3)ShyWhisper2006
Oct 24, 2006 3:05 pm
Ticklish (2)ShyWhisper2006
Sep 20, 2006 2:59 pm
Five Socks Weather (3)florallei
Sep 9, 2006 9:47 pm
Valleys Of You (3)florallei
Sep 9, 2006 9:45 pm
The Cloud (6)florallei
Sep 9, 2006 9:43 pm
Moving Train (3)ShyWhisper2006
Sep 3, 2006 3:26 pm
Flames (1)ShyWhisper2006
Aug 31, 2006 7:05 am
From Space (2)rm_impish_pixie
Aug 29, 2006 8:30 pm
It's easy to forget Joseph Bazalgette... (2)tight_n_tasty2
Aug 24, 2006 10:58 pm