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January 30, 2006
Free and easy: Part 2
....He arrived and.....the pragmatic, sensible part of my brain still said NO......yet my especially shaved 'front botty' screamed 'take me and do your worst you filthy drongo'.........
......i was up to my tits in 'other stuff to do' on this day of all days....and had to do a quick BBC soundbite (in my elevated position as omnipotent oracle) regarding the big news of the day: New sex laws.
However, that was HOURS away. It transpired that i needed every minute.
And so, the moment of: Can we (jointly) possibly live up to the expectation of the fantasy that had undoubtedly formed in both our ardent minds.
That would surely be impossible...and so it proved.
The fault could be equally divided. It was so WRONG WRONG MOTHERFUCKING WRONG!!!!!
Wrong of HIM to eat Garlic the day before the Big Match
Wrong of ME to just take my kit off (home strip) in an exasperated (at being finally caught) 'lets just get this shomozzle out of the way shall we'
Wrong of HIM to touch me the way he had touched his missus for the last 15-20 years....it seems we are not physiologically built the same, and anyway.... the 4-3-4 formation went out with the ark.
Wrong of ME to drink 10 cups of P.G tips (shades of Maradonna)..when i normally have decaffinated Tetley (i felt shakey)
Wrong of HIM to bollock- ache about 'bloody condoms'(having a ruck with the opposing team is a yellow card offence) and continually attempting to push the rigid boundaries of my rigourous 'mega safe sex policy'( -------and NO, he did not succeed)
Wrong of ME not to have had a 'gutbuster breakfast'(Glenn Hoddle's nutritionist WOULD have bust a macrobiotic gut) to give me the energy which seemed required by this selfish twat.
Wrong of HIM not to take direction (TRAINING SESSIONS ARE SO IMPORTANT)when i pointed out the obvious as in:'Do this sunshine, and do not in any way prevaricate or meander away from the tried and means tested orgasmic path' (This he did continually in a: 'i know what i'm doing sweet pea' kinda way)
Wrong of ME not to just switch the floodlights off and abandon the fixture with teargas on the terraces and shit loads of riot police TRYING VALIENTLY TO RESTORE ORDER and control capacity crowd
Wrong of HIM to have that faintly smug 'GOTCHA' look (like Beckham)with the insolent 'i've got my feet firmly under your table' countanence.
Wrong of ME not to just give him a slap...or at least the 'hair dryer treatment' A La Fergie
Wrong of HIM not to BEHAVE (think Gazza)and not to follow the requisite 1hr preparation time written in 'bedroom etiquette' where a potential fisting is concerned
Wrong of ME to be doing it at all........
IT WAS ALL GOING TERRIBLY WRONG.
In my 'cup (but not WORLD cup) half full rather than half empty world', i tried to focus on anything that i could find that was in any way GOOD about it.
I had to search really hard.
Why, oh why, had we embarked on the misguided ascent of Everest, what had seduced us into this fumbling folly..........me, a Tensing Norgay to his Sir Edmund Hillar(y)ious...the blind leading the blind up the most dangerous circuitous route....without appropriate training, crampons and safety ropes????
On that torpid mountain we were running out of time and good light, the weather was closing in and the high altitude was making it difficult to breath.
It looked for all the world as if it was going to be a goaless draw, with extra time, the 'golden boot' and a pigging penalty shoot out.
I hadn't sprinted up and down the pitch JUST TO END UP HAVING A WANK.
Out of my mind and out of ideas in the war of attrition i tried one more time to convey in clear helpful instructions how he could enable my pent up river to burst it's banks.
'HOW ABOUT YOU JUST LICK ME LIKE A DOG...BUT LEAVE THE BARKING BIT OUT'i guided.
Any NORMAL man would think 'shit i'd better do as i'm told'.
Not this Eejit...for only the BIGGEST EEJIT OF ALL would enquire as to the length of time this particular procedure would take.
Now there is a time for black humour and a time to err very clearly on the side of conservatism......dickus headus's timing was way off.
How in the name of a Rhino's rectum i achieved 'girlie ghee' is between me and the outrageous (sick) thoughts that ran through my depraved mind.
I had finally landed with all the exhaustion of a London-Sydney flight. I had 'pet lag' and had barely cleared customs when i had to jump on another flight.
IT WAS A 747-400 JUMBO
It's said that size doesn't matter, though the Ad men assert that it DOES.
I personally don't give a toss..........BUT........
If skating judges were to score the 'appendage de jour' it would have been shades of Torvill and Dean....PERFECT 6's all round.
Credit where credit is due...there has to be a silver lining round the cumnulous cloud.
All aboard and mind the doors please......
Part 3 will come eventually (like me) when i can be arsed...
Letitcia xxxx
Posted by Letitcia at 11:27 AM | Comments (0)
January 28, 2006
Welcome to the jungle
A very enterprising Chinaman charged the local Muslims 9 Ringgit to take a NON MUSLIM partner of their choice to a hidden 'shack', deep in the Malay Jungle........
I was hacking my way through the steamy verdant Kampungs with more regularity than Mr Indiana Jones himself, as the local yokels (with velvety chocolate skin coloured bodies)availed themself to this gracious service provided my Mr Chang.
I was the beneficiary of this set up on quite a few occasions.
Penang, or more precisely Batu Ferringhi was a study in sexual hypocrisy.
'We don't have any gay people in Malaysia' (yeah right)
'We muslims only sleep with our Muslim wives' (oh don't make me larf).....the list was endless.
If they ever bought in a Tax for STOOOOOOOPID people,it would fuel the Malay government's coffers by BILLIONS a year.
They supposedly still had such a thing as the 'Sex police' (as in Iran) where any transgressions are frowned upon and rewarded with the beating of your life.
All i can say is, the enforcers must have been perpetually SLEEPING ON THE JOB.
The diversity of race, religion, colour and creed was quite stupifying, but it was the bone crunching, barefaced cheek of those purporting to be followers of Islam, that grossed me out.
They wanted the chance to bag a 'metsalleh' (white woman) but secretly thought we were all disease ridden crutches of filth.
YET THEY DID NOT WELCOME THE RULE OF THE CONDOMN.
Go figure.
But, for all that..it was all rather 'Bridge over the river Kwai' meets 'Emmanuelle' when i assented to a rendevous at Mr Chang's Lurve Shack.
In fact, i think i spent more time there than my own Guest house. The sex was crap...but the mosquito nets draped over the bed.....and the sound of the crickets.......together with the stars...YES STARS.....the 9 ringget didn't run to a whole ROOF!!!
The washing facility was a tub of freezing cold water ....the days of the true bounty hunter.
There were other locations in which to fornicate...in the daytime,the giant waterfall deep in the jungle had tailormade hidden rockpools.....sure there were 1000 eyes watching when you 'spooned'with the native your choice..but Mr Chang's did not open until 9pm.
I did mention another place in BODY WORSHIP....Monkey island....but the cost of the Jetski to and fro was financially prohibitive to the youngsters....... and i for sure was reticent with regard to paying for (collectively) possibly the worst attempts at love making i have ever experienced in my life.
Visit Malaysia, the ad goes.
My response to that is: WHAT THE FUCK FOR?????
P.s Gong Si Fat Choi (Happy Chinese New Year)
Posted by Letitcia at 06:27 PM | Comments (0)
January 27, 2006
Tears of a clown
After a hard day of cock sucking............
........I used to go to a Kushiyaki bar within one of Sydney's finest Japanese resaurants: EDOESI, located just off Macleay Street.
The first taste of hot industrial strength Sake was like tinkerbell pissing on the tonsils of a parched pro.
I remember vividly my unchanging order.
Grilled Ox tongue (they would open a fresh pack for Letitcia-san)followed by beef tataki which was like 'a fuck in the mouth' and when i was feeling frisky: green tea ice cream.
The perfect end to a demanding day!!!!
The diminutive owner was Mr Hirohito (no relation)and one evening his mask of inscrutability fell and he invited me to have a drink with him as i finished my dessert.
He was in the middle of what can only be described as a Fujitsu Funk.
Think: Mr Miyagi in Karate Kid (1 11 or 111?) where he gets slaughtered on alcoholic beverages and gets really tearful about his dear departed wife.
Mr H was doing the same with monastary bells on.
The reason was this: He had read about a woman who had refused the authorities permission to switch off the life support for her son....who had been examined by a host of medical experts.
The opinion was unanamously to 'pull the plug'.
She refused
She visited her son every day....changed, washed, fed him...nurtured him...spoke to him as if he was alive...FOR 43 YEARS
One day she came in as usual...and there he was...sitting up smiling and saying 'hello Mum'
**chokes back tears at the memory******
What Mr H could not get to grips with was this: WHAT KIND OF FAITH DO YOU HAVE TO HAVE TO PERSUE A LIFE OF UTTER BARREN SELFLESSNESS.
He was Buddhist....yet he knew that he would not in any circumstance be able to keep the faith or in this case---BLIND FAITH.
'What kind of person can do this?' he implored me.
I knew a great honour was bestowed on me....to allow Letitcia -san to see his grief was the ultimate compliment.
'SHE MAKE ME FEEL LIKE DIRTY COCKROACH!!!' he spat in a banzai warrior call.
I read a news item today, which has reduced me to a similar state.
If pressed by intrusive questions, i will often state my 'ID' (my core and very being) is not so much enlightened, but centered.
I am fond of quoting 'HO'S (no pun) prison diary'...about 'the rice suffers under the pestle..blah bla...yadda bollocks and gonads'
But the reality is staring me in my tear stained face.
The parents of a son murdered by feral savages 'feel sorrow for them'...and to that end want to start a trust for...GET THIS: 'to educate deprived children'
GET OUTTA TOWN!!!!
I won't bore you, nor spend 30 minutes ferociously banging my keyboard....... with my outraged head.
I see that they are looking beyond the tragedy and making sense of why...and looking at social issues of 'well, maybe if they were shown love and had a job........'
I could NEVER FEEL THAT WAY.
I FEEL LIKE A COCKROACH.........
Posted by Letitcia at 09:39 PM | Comments (0)
January 25, 2006
Free and easy.
Pritti, the lovely wife of Yagnash the local newsagent commented today:'Oi Letitcia, are you sleepwalking?'
Ha, bloody ha.
It was 8.30ish in the morning----as opposed to the mad 'trying to beat the clock' with regard to getting to my Daily Mail(well SOMEONE has to read it) before they close.
I had an assignation.........
He was a married man with 2 children. We drank coffee and talked about sex for breakfast sex for lunch and sex for supper.
No, this is not some newfangled fantasy---we had been asked to bond as two proposed contributors for a local newspaper.
The editor thought (i am assuming)that we could blend well by virtue of being diametrically opposed in lifestyle and of course gender.
Two voices---one theme...abit like Sonny and Cher.
He was in the throes of writing a book ('100 sexual positions')and was anxious to bring the meeting of fine minds to a close.
He had one week to write 15,000, but as a seasoned journalist that would be a piece of piss.
I ran past him various ideas and subject matters i had submitted to the editor: 'bit of a bugger i can't use the HOW TO GET A FREEBIE FROM A SEX WORKER one' i said 'that would have been a corker'.
Suddenly he was not so hurried.
'Jesus' he boasted 'i can get free EVERYTHING......C.D's Books.....tell me how to do it...that's the only thing i DON'T know how to get!!!!'
'Would you like me to give you the bloke's number?' i joked.....'not only did he crack it....he cracked it with ME!!!!!'
Not so much: 'The unsinkable Molly Brown' but 'The unpenetrable Alcatraz'
It took the bugger 7 months ...yes 7 MONTHS the clever sod.
He started with an approach on my website and the start of his crusade was shaky.
'saw you on the street the other day....YOU WAS SHORTER THAN I IMAGINED'
I was moved to respond that 'i may be short sunshine, but what i lack in height i make up for in personality'
He also requested/gave me intructions as to the outfit he would love me to replicate on my extensive photo gallery.
I won't relay the dog's dinner he had in mind, but you will get the gist when i say....... i replied with: 'am actually attempting to attract the men TO me....rather than making them run for the hills'
I think you get the picture!!!!
He was RELENTLESS. If ever a bloke had mastered the art of tenacity and 'wearing the damsels down' he was the headest and hardiest honcho by far.
We thrusted and parried like email muskateers.
He attacked, i demured...he delved deeper, i retreated.
He tested the juices by sending a photo....i didn't vomit, so he was clear to circle the airport.
He asked about me and my life and my ethos, and when he overstepped the mark (by sayin' somthin' stoopid).....he had a smooth line in self deprecation,pathetic apology and was contrite, until it was safe to carry on in his quest.
He got drunk a few time and the carefully constructed veneer of just two people chatting was smeared with the inevitability of 'the real agenda'.
He showed acts of kindness, made sure i knew that 'women told him he was good in bed' and asked what qualities my ideal man would have.
'LOOK,A MAN IS EITHER A LOVER OR A PATRON.....AND SINCE YOU ARE MARRIED (told me from the get go)....and since you have this 'thing about paying for it' (never quite found out what THAT was about)you have nowhere to go petal' was the nucleous of my argument.....which obviously fell on 'ears that want to hear the reverse'.
He laid siege to my ramparts with renewed vigour.
Then...the masterstroke. One keeps friends close and enemies even closer.....he had found my weakest link...ROCK MUSIC.
I was lacking, and therefore had a longing to hear several A/C D/C C.D's.......and he was willing, nay he DEMANDED that he be allowed to fill my musical hole.
This was kismet and a pivitol point. I was reminded of the movie High Fidelity. There would probably be no turning back.
It was of course a perfidious Trojan Horse(i wonder if they named the condomns for that very reason),moving in by stealth and gaining a back door entrance into the city...until parked up all jolly in the market square.
Very cleverly, he chose not to meet me....he delivered them to my building while i was out instead.
AAAAAaaaahhh...how fucking sweet can you get????
He suggested meeting...i assented.
He continued to be helpful and an indispensable part of my daily life....like the postman or the unmistakeable and reassuring clink of the milkman's bottles.
Then an opening appeared for the bright young lad.
He offered technical help with my computer..fluffy bimbos are an easy mark and he took full advantage.
The visit coincided with a non working day (for me)....we talked bollocks for 7 hours and there was only a semi grope on his departure
He needed to continue said technical support a few days later and we talked bollocks for another 5 hours (there's only so much bollocks you can talk about) and he somehow resisted the urge to replicate previous lunge.
We somehow manufactured a reason for him visiting within the next few days...by this time i had wanked myself to death (my clitoris recoiling in horror everytime my hand came near) and i suspect he had tugged his turgid member in many monumental tugs of war.
He arrived, and.......
Sorry folks...THIS IS A TWO PARTER!!!!!!!!! Letitcia xxxxx
Posted by Letitcia at 10:29 AM | Comments (0)
January 23, 2006
Consummate Professional!!!
Non sex worker's perception of Sex workers never fail to amaze me.
I was sitting in a group of Women, Saturday night, posh restaurant.....except i wasn't eating.........
The ladies were an eclectic bunch, Authors, Columnists, PR people....and me....the token Whore.
Actually that's not fair, i was invited by that naughty scamp Julie Burchill, to come and celebrate the creation of a new production company..... i couldn't attend pre dinner, but i put in a 'guest appearance' in the evening.
Inevitabley the burning question was: 'And what do you do??'
(Julie is excepionally sweet, she does not pre inform: 'HO IN THE HOUSE')
As usual i replied with my standard: 'I'm a prostitute'
After which i am condemned to talking about the sex industry until my departure.
I understand totally, they want to know the nitty gritty shitty details.
'Why aren't you drinking?' they enquired
I told them i had an appointment with a hot young boy...YES BOY...who had the whole enchillada where pleasuring a woman was concerned.
I was not going to mess this up for anything.
'But i thought you girls just took the money and treated guys like shit' was the exclamation
There, at that table, i saw the mountain which sex workers have to climb to dispel myths, untruths, and downright cobblers where the industry is concerned.
I fear it will NEVER be acheived.
It's a wonderful feeling to slope off into the Saturday night ether...and know that you are going to have an orgasmically good time.
I left the girlies talking about all things intellectual, and met my lovely boy.
Like they say in Australia:
'BOX OF BIRDS MATE...WOULDN'T BE DEAD FOR QUIDS'
(i love my job)
Posted by Letitcia at 10:44 PM | Comments (0)
January 19, 2006
Prostitutes, pimps, politics and the punter.
The news headlines in the last few days have been providing such comedic fodder----i hardly know where to start!!!!
But, i will try.........
Welcome to an imagined day in the life of 'Sea view parade'
Let me set the scene: Millionaire row, panoramic splendour and gracious living.
The postie attempts to deliver letters, but such is the paranoia of the 'general public', due to the new 'mini-brothel law'....ANY ONE approaching/entering a building is deemed to be doing so for nefarious purposes by the twitching twerps in the block....and standards have to be upheld at all times.
Because he arrives EVERY DAY, an ASBOS has been slapped on his vistational rights by the meddlesome neighbours.
The same goes for the weekly visit of the refuse collectors. Any person, let alone a PERSON TRAMPING DOWN TO A BASEMENT FLAT (and most working flats are located at that level), is ajudged to be about to pay for sex.
And they are whistling too!!!!!
Since they traipse down the basement steps MOB HANDED, it is deemed to be a precursor for an orgy.....CALL THE PADDY WAGON IMMEDIATELY!!!
Half the city's cabbies are awaiting either trial, or a compulsary day course costing £200 to teach them it is wrong to pay for sex.
They have been seen by judiciously placed CCTV camera's spending more than the requisite 7 seconds picking up a (female)fare...therefore the 'kerb crawling law' is invoked.
Ladies walking round in gangs of 3 or more are viewed as the hussies who will be moving to a neighbourhood near you, and subsequently cannot get a cab/or rent a new apartment for love nor money.
Vigillante 'hard on' police are scouring the city to second guess (by the bulge in the groin) the men who may just give in to temptation.
(Men are therefore advised not to carry hankies keys and wallet in trouser pockets to avoid erroneous detection)...suspicious carrier's of hard ons are followed to cash points, and if a withdrawal of more than £100 is found, they are grilled as to what the nature of the purchase might be......if they admit their fallibility, an on the spot fine of the same amount is extracted.
If they hold their nerve under pressure, their turgidity dissipates and they cancel their date with a 'dead cert' anyway.
This is not about prostitution...THIS IS ABOUT HAVING SEX!!!!
If you cannot show a bona fide visitor's pass to your apartment block (and there is a 6 months waiting list, because the postman cannot deliver said passes to said address)........you cannot enter.
Husbands and boyfriends cannot get home to their loved ones.
The morally outraged of the city, beat their breast and cry :'we don't want your sort round here'
The women folk are now free to book Male escorts because they are viewed as 'fun and frivolous'-------- rather than the tawdry dealings of their female counterparts.
How have these gigilos, got dispensation for entry to multi tenanted buildings??
The lady M.Ps (who have helped implement the new sex laws)are their customers------well, the hubbies and lovers of M.P's cannot get home-----so at their ministerial hypocritical best, they take advantage of a buyer's market.
Me?? I'm sorted-----my freeholder assured me......'I have never lived in a building where there is NOT a sex worker....thank God you live here!!!!'
Sorted.
Posted by Letitcia at 10:39 PM | Comments (0)
January 17, 2006
Time and pussy wait for no man
When i was 16 i had a hot date with a beautiful 'Jesus lookalike' who i am going to name and shame. The statutes of limitations having way run out, i am going to expose this thoughtless sod for the pain which i remember to this day.
We had met at the local RAF camp, where once a week, the 'walrus wagon' or the 'beaver bus' (that is what my Ex R.A.F brother-in-law assures me it was called) ferried the young damsels from the villages, for an evening of jolly japes and wholesale shagging with the boys in slate blue.
I remember the minutiae of my dress (A mustard coloured toga which barely skimmed my arse, and barely limbo danced under my father's criteria for being told to change)
A pair of roman sandals which took 20 min to buckle up and triple decker eyelashes...(two on top and one below).
I like to think i bagged the best looking bit of trouser in the gaff, and he was a civilian.
We progressed to gymnastics in his very small car....my false beauty clinging on with the determination of a sea-spray lashed limpet.
By the time i crept home, i looked as if i had been attacked by caterpillars.
After several more meetings i was asked to the 'holy grail' of dating.....to meet both his boss and parents at some posh banquet. I was officially a grown up!!!!
HE LIKED ME...HE REALLY LIKED ME....I WAS NOT JUST A FILTHY LITTLE COUNTRY SLAPPER.
This called for extreme action, to pull out all the stops and knock 'em dead with my attire.
I worked for a clothing company and bought a terribly avant garde outfit....then the high stiletto boots...then, well the kitchen sink.
I was going to dress to impress.
The evening arrived, how could any man fail to be enraptured by this flaxen haired, bewitching fashion plate.
The ETA duly arrived and went, for every car that slowed down out side our country cottage, my heart skipped a million beats.
After 45 minutes, i knew in my wounded heart that i had been 'stood up'.
So intense was the pain of rejection, that i wanted to claw at my skin.
My humiliation was compounded by the fact that i would spend the next few months paying for my dive into retail therapy.
I never saw him again and never received so much as an explanation nor a 'kiss my arse goodbye'
This has formed a rather intransigent way of seeing things where assignations of ANY kind are concerned.
If the person has not arrived by the agreed time---i'm off
Waiting for a thoughtless, selfish, dolt is the most thankless of all tasks, and i simply refuse to do it.
Patrons who arrive late (who have not advised me of revised plan)are routinely treated to the sight of me walking out the front door.
'Letitcia' they will say with smiles of relief 'where are you going....we have an appointment!!'
'HAD'
'Pardon?'
'We had an appointment........ 25 minutes ago'
'But i'm here now!!!'
'And i'm not.......TIME AND PUSSY WAITS FOR NO MAN PAL'
What a legacy you have created Mr. Rip Jaggard
Posted by Letitcia at 08:22 PM | Comments (0)
January 16, 2006
A Pro by any other name
Where form filling was concerned, i could never work out what i should put in the space provided for OCCUPATION.....
I toyed with the moniker: 'CONSTRUCTION'.....as in, 'Demolition of temporary erections'.......but as with most things in my chequered life, it was nixed by being too clever by half.
Then i had the wheeze that i could be a 'Public Relations Officer'
True, like most jobs advertised in the Guardian, or the myriad quangos that abound today, it didn't really say much. It was vague enough to fill the space, and sounded posh enough to give me gravitas.
So, on my extensive travels i wrote the legend P.R.O on the varied forms provided at hotels etc in foreign countries,
I did not get a minute's peace.
Knocks at the door, phone calls and messages, unwarrented and unwanted come ons, out of all proportion to my (i thought) low key, sedately dressed stay, were the order of the day ...and sleepless night.
When you are young, all these things are quite a validation of one's attractiveness in the universe, as seen by the opposite sex. At any other time it could be seen as semi flattering
But it bugged me. I was not being shown respect. i felt as if a leprechaun had drawn the words 'please approach for fuck whenever you please' on my forehead.
It did not matter if i payed oodles for a 7 star, deluxe michelin rated 'hotel to the stars',----OR a 50p a night, crap with 20 others in communal hole in ground, complete with cold water shower from a bucket.
I was a flame--nay, a bloomin' burning bush which the moths gravitated toward.
While having a sedate breakfast at the Shangri La in Georgetown, Penang, the beautiful diminutive Noona exclaimed:'You look so young for your age'
'How d'ya know what that IS' i asked
Without a hint of embarassment she told me how when the passports go to reception for 'security purposes'they are scoured for people who may want a shag, partner, be a jeweller, import/export dealer et al......and then all the mates and relatives of the reception staff could 'target market' with impunity.
Very clever stuff
Since my passport bore the words P.R.O...and they could not discern from an acronym and abbreviation..in their slanty eyes (oh, how politically incorrect)i was a 'round eye metsalleh' looking for business.
So by the time i checked into some flea pit in Kuala Lumpar...(i couldn't go into a long drawn out explanation in pidkin Malay/ English to every check in desk) i was ready.
Some bright spark rang my room at 3.am with the story...'maintenance, you have something wrong with phone'
I have heard some pathetic excuses to gain entry to a holiday hussy's room....but this was up there with: 'i won't come in your mouth'
I allowed the ripeness of my bosoms and the 'camel foot'of my tightly fitting shorts to be on display...and waited for the games to commence.
It was delicious to watch a Malay man (and therefore by implication, a Muslim who has forsworn fornacation with the infidel or anyone other than his wife or the maximum allowed four)ATTEMPT TO PRETEND HE WAS CARRYING OUT ROUTINE INSPECTION OF THE PHONE SERVICE.....at that late hour.
I kept the door open to the corridor, as any self respecting single lady would do--just in case it got ugly.
'Where your husband' he demanded
'Dead' i lied.
This was the lie i had to tell all the way around Asia to get any bloody peace.
The concept of a lady not being married and travelling independently was alien to them.
It saved alot of hassle
He suddenly 'found the fault' and excused himself from the 'grieving widow'---what a hoot.
Do you know what my passport says now?
SERVICE PROVIDER.
I had to miss out the 'erotic'
CANNOT HAVE THE NATIVES GETTING IDEAS!!!!
Posted by Letitcia at 11:57 PM | Comments (0)
January 13, 2006
Doggy Style
My name is Letitcia and i am a licorice addict.
This addiction, and the fact that my local licorice dealer even opens his shop when i need a fix, will stand me in the most glorious of good stead for what i am about to do......
I am going to triple my dose, for i need all the ammunition i can get.
I am going to launch an offensive as only a service provider with a bee in her bonnet can do.
I am going to sytemmatically SHIT ON THE DOOR STEP OF EVERY DOG OWNER IN MY STREET and see how THEY sodding like it.
Then, i will press the command button (remotely) on my super duper robot dog: K9-Poo.
K9 will then liberally, and with extreme prejudice, smear my less than scant offerings from the desecrated door- step........down the drive and out into the street,for maximum defilement.
My excrement will be like the '5 fishes and the two loaves' (or is it the other way around)...a little has to go a MIGHTY LONG WAY, MOTHER SUCKERS.
I am mightily tired of the tyranny of turds, canine ca-ca or dog dropping.
Which ever way you cut it....it's vile vile vile.
Why would a stoogie which shoots from MY anus, be deemed to be inferior/worse/more disgusting.......than a cute puppy wuppy pooch.
I would fight it in the European courts---------Discrimination with regard to the expelling of waste matter.
Humans (generally) do it in the receptacle provided....at home.
Why the hell can't dogs??? And if the owner is a dog LOVER,('OOOOOhhhh, he's adorable, just like one of the family really') then let 'Rover' clear his rectum IN THE OWNER'S BLEEDIN'ABODE.
***Knock Knock*****
'Who's there?'
'Letitcia'
'Do i know you?'
'Nope'
'So why are you here?'
'I hereby serve you notice that i am going to take the most satisfying dump of my life....on your doorstep'
'Are you mental, why would you do that you crazy woman?'
''Cos your Burberry coated, diamonte collared, designer clipped, cossetted and spoilt 'Man's best friend' has been doing just that for the last 2 years....it's PAYBACK.
I DEFY ANY COURT TO FIND ME GUILTY
Posted by Letitcia at 10:03 PM | Comments (0)
January 08, 2006
Age cannot wither
An overses patron (oh yes, they worship at my altar....or vice versa, from far and wide)was given the standard grilling which i subject my poor men to within the first five minutes of introduction.......
'So you like the older woman do you' i smugly trilled, since he looked about 12 years old (he WASN'T childcare workers take note)
I was expecting an answer along the lines of:---'so much more experienced----know what they like----more to talk about----not so silly------more attractive with age' kind of response.
Looks like i am going to have to ditch the interrogation.
This was his reply: I ALWAYS HAD A THING FOR MY GRANDMOTHER'S FRIEND.
The implications hung in the air like a lapdancers's pole!!!!!
Posted by Letitcia at 09:49 AM | Comments (0)
Biosphere Busting (Brave new world)
Letitcia for P.M (no not PMT)
I am the answer to Middle England's pergatory at the hands of the limp wristed, lily livered, bleeding heart wowsers..... that determine the structure and fabric of our daily lives.
And John Prescott has been of great assistance in providing the first step to setting my people free.......
Yes siree, old 'dog jowl two jags' has his uses, and this time he has inadvertently stumbled across an initative which might actually be of some use.
The 'eye in the sky' which is supposed to collate data of EVERY HOUSE HOLD on this festering isle (for council tax purposes) can be co-opted for an even more noble cause.
LETS GET RID OF THE SCUM.
They are a waste of space, and no good to man nor beast.
If you are about to form the words:'you can't say that'......well tongue my bum and get over yourselves.
To paraprase Kennedy (no, not the punk rock group): 'you weak willed willies are always moaning WHY...and I say WHY NOT'
The Jungle is a great leveller, survival of the fittest...and if you are not up to the riguers of life there....then you die.
These muppets, and i don't need to list the kind people who have lost the RIGHT to a place on this planet....are machines that have gone wrong and will STAY wrong.....so dispatch them to the human scrapyard forthwith.
The amount of time, effort, resources and gnashing of teeth spent on these animals (they have self forfeited the right to be in the human race)could power all of the world's nuclear reactors and a trillion sex aids.
There will Biospheres with Prescott's technology.... covering all major cities....(there will be a mop up operation for those in rural England).....information regarding miscreants (BEYOND ALL REASONABLE DOUBT)who cross the line of human being OR being a truffle frotting, feral slime sack----- WILL BE ZAPPED ...by an invisible laser of purple light.
It will go unnoticed by all, except those in the exterminating control tower.
The controllers will be able to see the inhabitants who are up for eradication.
There will be no committee for this....no appeal...no 11th hour plea for clemency....because they (the douch bags)will not know they are up for the chop.
The judge's decision is final...and IT WILL BE ME.
WHO WANTS TO JOIN ME IN THIS BRAVE NEW WORLD???
Posted by Letitcia at 12:28 AM | Comments (0)