Postcard from Norfolk – the Visitors Book
Posters adorning the walls of tube stations not only advertise coming events and products to purchase to make us happy, but perform the vital function of giving tube passengers something to look at apart from the back of the head of the girl in front (I can spend hours playing ‘guess the conditioner’ before having the shit kicked out of me for being a pervert by making one sniff too many) while waiting for a tube that’s suffered more delays than Chinese Democracy.
One of the posters that caught my attention was for the annual convention of perverts, freaks and desperate attention seekers known as ‘Erotica 08’, a sort of fair where the clowns wear leather pants with the arse cut out of them. The poster shows a zip being undone and behind it, instead of a flaccid and undersized cock with an infected piercing through it, which you’d expect to see at a fetishists convention but which the prudish rules of advertising mean you are unlikely to see, is an attractive young couple, wearing PVC nethergarments. The lady is running her tongue over the chap’s shoulder with a look of pleasure on her face that I thought women reserved for eating ice cream.
What a crock of shit (Main exhibition hall, stall C12). Have you ever seen anyone who actually partakes of all that dressing up and thrashing about with whips, chains and custard and so forth? I’ve seen them on telly documentaries and have stumbled upon them when browsing porn on-line and, by god, these people are positive trolls. I have yet to see an honest-to-god fetish type who is attractive. The reason for this is sound enough, attractive people don’t need to stick a chuck of red Leicester up their arse to have fun having sex. Fetishism is for the beauty impaired.
Or the old, and Christ, seeing a couple of wrinkles going at it in a dungeon is trauma enough for anyone; I think these people are sadists, taking pictures of themselves, putting a link to it marked ‘cheerleader fun’ and then imagining the horror of anyone clicking the link looking for a swift three and a half minutes of self indulgence. Possibly these people are so old that they can remember when dungeons were in popular use, but that’s no excuse for building one in your spare bedroom.
Possibly people explore fetishism when their sex lives get a bit stale or they want to try something different. Personally, I’d suggest having an affair with a much younger person and hence wrecking your marriage, this has to be better than ordering a gimp mask by mail order.
While some seek thrills, others find comfort in the familiar. On and off for the last few years, my family has got together for a holiday in Norfolk and, although going at different times of the year, we tend to stay at the same place, a rental cottage in a small village. As one does, one records one’s visit in the visitor’s book, passing on helpful hints, warnings about rabid badgers wandering the woods, good places to visit and the like. For those visitors with a sadistic streak, you can indulge this by mentioning a ghost, a remark sure to endear you to the parents of younger visitors.
What I noticed on a recent visit is that there are a lot of regular visitors. Nothing odd about that, but one family has taken to starting entries ‘40th visit’ and so on. Again, quite charming.
Except that somebody else did not think so. Somebody has been through the visitors’ book and made some comments about the comments and, in reaction to ‘nth visit’ had commented ‘you’re just showing off now’. Personally I thought that was hysterical.
It’s either going to encourage visitors to raise the visitor’s comment to an art form, or re-set the book to the sort of brevity that perhaps should be encouraged, remarking on the weather, any places of interest that might be enjoyed by others and which cockle stall is to be avoided. I may simply write ‘spent entire week shagging, in that chair you’re sat in now’.
One of the posters that caught my attention was for the annual convention of perverts, freaks and desperate attention seekers known as ‘Erotica 08’, a sort of fair where the clowns wear leather pants with the arse cut out of them. The poster shows a zip being undone and behind it, instead of a flaccid and undersized cock with an infected piercing through it, which you’d expect to see at a fetishists convention but which the prudish rules of advertising mean you are unlikely to see, is an attractive young couple, wearing PVC nethergarments. The lady is running her tongue over the chap’s shoulder with a look of pleasure on her face that I thought women reserved for eating ice cream.
What a crock of shit (Main exhibition hall, stall C12). Have you ever seen anyone who actually partakes of all that dressing up and thrashing about with whips, chains and custard and so forth? I’ve seen them on telly documentaries and have stumbled upon them when browsing porn on-line and, by god, these people are positive trolls. I have yet to see an honest-to-god fetish type who is attractive. The reason for this is sound enough, attractive people don’t need to stick a chuck of red Leicester up their arse to have fun having sex. Fetishism is for the beauty impaired.
Or the old, and Christ, seeing a couple of wrinkles going at it in a dungeon is trauma enough for anyone; I think these people are sadists, taking pictures of themselves, putting a link to it marked ‘cheerleader fun’ and then imagining the horror of anyone clicking the link looking for a swift three and a half minutes of self indulgence. Possibly these people are so old that they can remember when dungeons were in popular use, but that’s no excuse for building one in your spare bedroom.
Possibly people explore fetishism when their sex lives get a bit stale or they want to try something different. Personally, I’d suggest having an affair with a much younger person and hence wrecking your marriage, this has to be better than ordering a gimp mask by mail order.
While some seek thrills, others find comfort in the familiar. On and off for the last few years, my family has got together for a holiday in Norfolk and, although going at different times of the year, we tend to stay at the same place, a rental cottage in a small village. As one does, one records one’s visit in the visitor’s book, passing on helpful hints, warnings about rabid badgers wandering the woods, good places to visit and the like. For those visitors with a sadistic streak, you can indulge this by mentioning a ghost, a remark sure to endear you to the parents of younger visitors.
What I noticed on a recent visit is that there are a lot of regular visitors. Nothing odd about that, but one family has taken to starting entries ‘40th visit’ and so on. Again, quite charming.
Except that somebody else did not think so. Somebody has been through the visitors’ book and made some comments about the comments and, in reaction to ‘nth visit’ had commented ‘you’re just showing off now’. Personally I thought that was hysterical.
It’s either going to encourage visitors to raise the visitor’s comment to an art form, or re-set the book to the sort of brevity that perhaps should be encouraged, remarking on the weather, any places of interest that might be enjoyed by others and which cockle stall is to be avoided. I may simply write ‘spent entire week shagging, in that chair you’re sat in now’.
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