Shaken, Not Stirred

Not at all surprising. Don’t forget, they’d all been to public school and so, to quote Eliza, “knew the good of it.”

Speaking of semen, ‘Bishop’ Long (stop sniggering up the back), found sending sessy self-pics to boy-toys. Hooray!!!!!!!!!!

Can Martin Ssempa be far behind?

Then what did Q stand for?

An excerpt from:

Wing Commander Wanker of M.I.6.

Available to download at Google Books.

Chapter 1: Roddy Rubs One Out.

Wing-Commander Percy Wanker watched Lady Diana Chomondeley, in a smart navy tailor-made, thread her way through the tables at the Café Royal. In her hand was the tightly-rolled umbrella she always carried that concealed the long, thin blade that had got her out of more than one sticky situation in the past. Beside him his chum Roddy Spigot, red-faced and sweaty, was doing his best to rub one out.
“I say, old man, do hurry up.”
“Crikey, Roddy, what’s that in your hand?” Lady Diana queried as the waiter drew back her chair.
“It’s one’s penis, if you must know,” Roddy breathed.
“Hasn’t it turned a rather peculiar colour?” Lady Diana wanted to know.
“Roddy’s been at it for ages. He’s always been a bit of a slowcoach. He gave us all sprained wrists at Eton.”
“I say, Roddy, can I help?” Lady Diana wanted to know as she unbuttoned her gloves.
“Just as soon have Percy if it’s all the same to you, Di. It’s more what I’m used to.”
“Typical!” Lady Diana snorted, tossing her mass of auburn curls. “Just like my brothers. Always playing with each other instead of my friends. Mummy despairs of them ever getting engaged.”
“Oh, good Lord, man, get your bally hand out the way,” Wanker growled.
“Good heavens, it’s enormous!” Lady Diana asserted. “None of my brothers has got one that big. It’s a regular Nelson’s Column. One’s jaw hurts just looking at it.”
“Never mind that, Di. Let’s get down to business.”
Percy grasped his old schoolchum’s rigid member firmly and began to tug causing Capt. Roddy Spigot D.S.O. to slide down in his chair, his face turning beetroot.
“Takes a chap to do this right, don’t you know.”
“What’s up, Wanker?” Lady Diana asked. “Why the urgent message?”
“Spot of bother with the Bosche.”
“Oh not again!” Lady Diana wailed. “Oh really, it’s too bad! One has tickets for the opera.”
“They’ve got their eye on Wipers.”
“What fiends!”
“I sent out four invisible messages this morning. Left me a bit raw round the edges.”
“Goodness! I can only imagine.”
“Now we’ve got to get a message to HQ in Amiens. Which is where you come in.”
“Me?” Lady Diana asked. “I say, Roddy, this better be worth the wait.”
“Oh, good Lord!” the handsome young Captain gasped.
“Just don’t go hosing down the walls like last time,” Percy admonished.
“Mummy, daddy, mummy, daddy, mummy, daddy…” Roddy gasped.
There was a sudden burst of activity under the table cloth as Roddy reached the point of no return.
“Oh how disgusting!”wailed Lady Diana. “You’ve cum all over my umbrella! Oh no! And my frock. Oh you really are too careless, Roddy.”
“I say, old chap, good show! Watch out for the clotted cream. Splendid. There’s enough there to rewrite Magna Carta.”
“Runs in the family,” Roddy said modestly, scooping up his emission into a bottle. “Pater’s in his 70s and he can still hit the headboard.”
“I say, how super!” Lady Diana enthused. “I’m simply gasping for a cuppa.”
“Let’s get that waiter chappie over.” Percy said, “Cream cakes all round, I should think.”
“Wizard!”
“I say, Percy, be a good chap and ask him for a fresh napkin. This one’s stiff as a board.”
“I don’t know how I’m to explain these spots to mummy. Honestly, Roddy, it’s too cross-making.”
“Sorry, old thing.”
“You should take more care. You boys are so beastly with your beastly penises. You could at least aim it away from one.”
“I say, Roddy, pass the gazogene. A good squirt of soda-water should do the trick. Then let’s tell Diana why she’s here.” He turned to Lady Diana, his square jaw set firm, his steely blue eyes showing no sign of emotion. “It could get dicey but there’s no one else we can trust to get the message through.” Turning to Roddy he added impatiently, “I say, old man, I do wish you’d put that thing away. We’ve got all the ‘ink’ we need.”
“Ink,” Diana mused, “so that’s what you chaps call it these days.”

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants: [golf claps]

I can’t wait to read Chapter 2. Thank FSM that I was the first one in the office given I shrieked at “Watch out for the clotted cream. Splendid.”

@SanFranLefty:

Hear, hear. I’m hoping for the appearance of the able-bodied seamen.

The cover of Metallica’s 1996 album “Load” is an image of “Blood and Semen III” by Andres Serrano.

“It is one of three photographic studies by Andres Serrano created in 1990 by mingling the artist’s own semen and bovine blood between two sheets of Plexiglas. The liner notes simply state ‘Cover art by Andres Serrano’ rather than listing the actual title of the work.

“In a 2009 interview with Classic Rock magazine, METALLICA guitarist/vocalist James Hetfield expressed his dislike of the album cover . . . ” – blabbermouth.net

Songs on “Load” that are worth googling up and listening to:

Ain’t My Bitch – your problems are not mine
2×4 – great hard blues-rock tune
Bleeding Me – pain, strength, renewal and the majesty of metal
Wasting My Hate – “I’m not gonna waste my hate on you. I’m gonna keep it all for myself.”

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants: How will you block this for maximum audience arousal? And btw, I seriously would have given you the Stinque +1 for this except that you racked up a -1 with the link to photos of Bishop Musclehead.

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants: Tell me again why the opening number shouldn’t feature Happy Villagers.

Using the (ahem) writing instrument must’ve been a real challenge, especially having to wait until after a nap to use it again.

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants:

Comment of a Lifetime. (bowing in awe of your genius)

“You boys are so beastly with your beastly penises. You could at least aim it away from one.”

ADD: Or at least save it for the sauna.

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants: Chapter 2 tomorrow morning, mon?

Really, don’t leave us hanging with Chapter 1, you need to give all of us a reason to wake up in the morning, though on more than one occasion “I wonder what Nojo put up for today’s Morning Sedition” has forced me to actually get up (or roll over and pick up the iPhone off the nightstand).

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants:
BRAVO !!

@SanFranLefty: i read it on the “i” on line at the bank. waiting and cackling. you just cant read benedick in public.

also StinqueSport
i know you guys don’t give a shit, so i comment about it now for miracles only. Dodgerblue has bested me and lefty TWICE in a ROW in our never-ending scrabble game. that has never happened in 2 years of constant play. and by the look of our new board, he’s in position to make it THREE.
KUDOS to DODGER !!! outstanding play, sir!

Thanks all. Couple of notes. ‘Wipers’ is what the English (not to confuse noje but to distinguish from the British) called Ypres. I was doing something with the Youth Theatre once and we were put up at a boarding school out of term time. The dorms were all named after WWI battlefields, mine was Wipers.

The remark, “Oh how disgusting. You’ve cum all over my umbrella”. Is attributed to John Gielgud who once, while ‘taking a pause’ while acting a play in the West End, is reported to have heard one audience member say that to another. Which is the reason he gave for never allowing pauses to happen in plays he was in. True? Who knows. But there is an Englishness about it that just feels right. As the bishop said to the actress. He was also famous for the time he took a particularly handsome young man he was ‘dating’ to one of Binkie Beaumont’s famous house-parties at Knott’s Foss where, instead of introducing the young man by his real name, Arthur, forgetfully he introduced by by the pet name he gave his penis, Arnold. No one could understand why ‘Arnold’ seemed quite so embarrassed all weekend.

Current events, and now noje’s letter to the president, have depressed me so much I am reduced to jokey comments about the English and semen. Not that it isn’t jolly useful for sticking down envelopes or mending broken crockery but still, not quite the thing one imagined a year ago.

@Benedick Arnuldsson Manpants:
Ha.