February 18, 2008
Plump Friction
My mother taught me never to talk to strangers, nor to accept a lift from one.........
So what did i do the other day?....yes, i did BOTH, in the middle of London.
I had been promised lunch by the 'brothel creeper' himself, SEBASTIAN HORSLEY, and i had been issued the edict: 'Darling, please don't be late, i have another appointment at 3'
Quite right too, except, i was running behind schedule.
I had decided to try to WALK from Victoria station to Horsley Towers (somewhere in Soho), but didn't realise how bloomin' FAR it was.
London was gridlocked, and there was not a cab to be seen.
It looked as if i was going to be delayed to the point that Master H's distain would have been unbearable.
Added to which indignity, i did not actually know where i was going.
I was a stranger in paradise----SO, i asked directions from 'white van man'
Out came the map, and then, the offer of the century:
'Tell you what' he said 'i have another delivery in the next street to where you're goin'....i give yer a lift if yer like'
The thought somehow tickled me.
That is why ladies and gent, i found myself, in all my finery and jantily placed hat, in a: PULP FACTION: Recycling company van!!.
The blurb on their website states: A SINGLE SOLUTION TO ALL YOUR NEEDS.
I'll say.
I could have kissed him....except there was a baby buggy between the driver and passenger seat.
The spirit of adventure is still in the old girl.........
Posted by Letitcia at 04:04 PM | Comments (0)
August 07, 2007
Let the train take the stain
Anybody who has to use the Rail service (oxymoron) in the summer deserves a pigging MEDAL......
I let the train take the strain the other day and wondered how the stoic daily commuters put up with the terrible conditions.
The phrases: 'cattle truck and 'sardines' spring to mind.
Having one's personal space invaded on a train is not my idea of intimacy.
But the WORST offenders are those with BODY ODOUR.
One such miscreant smelt SO BAD, that i could feel my nostrils twitching to the approaching noxious fumes from 2 CARRIAGES away!!!!
He stopped about 3 feet away to lean against one of the seats and check his mobile for messages.
Who on earth would want to contact this malodourous buffoon i do not know.
OI, ALL OF YOU RAILTRAVELLERS...GET A WASH!!!
Posted by Letitcia at 10:49 AM | Comments (0)
January 18, 2007
Put another Pimp on the Barbie
So........Leo Sayer (of big brother fame) wants out of the U.K and needs to get back to The Land Of Oz........
They are the words of someone who does not understand what it is to live in Australia for any length of time.
A very popular T Shirt in Oz bears the words: 'Another shitty day in paradise'.. ........
What it means is: YOU THINK THINGS WILL BE GREAT JUST BECAUSE THERE IS A BLUE SKY
Listen very carefully (for i will say this only once): All it means is that you will get mugged, raped, burgled, Murdered, beaten, attacked....IN BETTER WEATHER........!!!!!
Posted by Letitcia at 07:20 PM | Comments (0)
February 21, 2006
Dogging in the Dell
You've had the ride in the Ford Capri, the two drinks (babycham)and a handful of stale peanuts at a 'local yokel' pub....and now it's down to business.
Finding a place in the great wide yonder to 'spear the bearded clam'......
This was what passed for 'romance' in my misspent and pent up youth.
It was the ultimate 'park and ride'...but the park VENUE sometimes left a lot to be desired.
How i suffered-- just to let the local lads, along with a few out of towners have a 'bunk up alfresco'.
A mile from my home was a 'copse' called Bell wood...you had to open the gate to drive into the dense and verdant thicket. It was the place i had picked primroses and violets for Mum as a child, but the attraction of flowers was dead to me now, i was a juicy adolescent and i wanted to fuck the universe...and you know what, i think i just about managed it too!!!!
If the bloke REALLY liked you he would risk the wearing down of his battery and keep the heating switched on (i can't enjoy myself when i'm cold) otherwise the fucking whilst frozen was not for the fainthearted.
It was difficult to concentrate, because the rustle of the trees and the creaking boughs made it an eerie place to do the 'car concertina'
'I can hear people moving' i complained
'shut up and keep bouncing on my cock' he replied unlovingly
'you will be CAREFUL won't you?' i pleaded in my contraception-less state
'Well, THAT'S BLOODY KILLED THE MOMENT HASN'T IT' he replied with derisive scorn
Catholic guilt would make me console and placate the selfish prat...and we would start all over again.
The car would be awash with discarded clothes, sweat, spunk ..and a tissue full of peanuts, orange slices and marachino cherries nicked from the pub.
I whined that i could hear noises again...he ignored me...and then...THERE WAS A TAP TAP TAP on the windscreen......and there was a flashing blue light....it was the rozzers!!!
Oh, the eternal shame, it was the Village Bobby...
My 'lover du jour' opened the door....Mr Policeman shined his light around the interior and fixed the beam on two terrified 'Copse copulators'.
'Would you mind opening the boot sir' asked Mr Plod
He hastily wrapped my frilly blouse round his bits, and did as he was told.
Duely satisfied, Mr Bobby explained: 'There has been alot of pig theft in the area and we have had this wood under surviellence for some time, when i heard squealing i feared the worst'
Bloody hell, was i screaming THAT loudly?
He shone his torch into a face of crimson embarassment.....
'As for you young lady, don't you think you should be getting home?'
'Don't tell Mum and Dad' i pleaded
'Just don't come here again'
And that was the end of my car fucking activities......in that wood at least...........
Posted by Letitcia at 03:04 PM | Comments (0)
November 19, 2005
Red light tours with Letitcia.
'A fascinating insight into the oldest profession in the world': this is the 'WALKING TOUR-DARK AMSTERDAM'
It is one of Thomas Cook's brilliant wheezes for visitors to Amsterdam.
....and the real kick in the pants is that: 'half price rate is offered for children........ and under 3's go for free'
How marvellous.
My childhood holidays were days trips to Hunstanton, Lowestoft, Cromer or Great Yarmouth. We ate gritty sand, blown into two heaving great slabs of white processed bread (maybe that's where the name SANDwich derived from) got to lick a 69 Mr Whippy and have a ride on a mangey donkey.
How times move on.
Thomas Cook say it is due to 'feedback from clients', and who are we to argue??
The predictable 'wowsers' have crawled from under the cloak of righteousness to protest.
I suppose it beats the hell out of museums, literary pub crawls, and monuments of interest.
From my eerie (balcony), i often witness families trying desperately to have a good time on the traditional day for the 2.4 brigade (Sunday).
Scratch the surface, and you see a bored DAD, a harried MUM and fractious KIDS.
IT LOOKS LIKE HELL ON EARTH TO ME.
So therefore this holiday holds great promise.
'Mummy, mummy---why is that strange lady on a swing?'
'Shurrup Kylie, here's a kroner----go get yerself a lemonade'
'Daddy------why is that lady waving at you----does she know you???'
'EE up Romeo,...... no lad-----go and see where yer sister is'
'Barry, are we gonna stand here all day?'
'No petal, but i'd love to buy you some nice underwear like she's wearing'
'Don't be daft'
''ere's some money love, go and buy something sexy for yerself----'twill be like second 'oney'moon-----and take yer time----i'm gonna go for walk'
If the premise floats on the stock market i'll be at the front of the queue.......
Posted by Letitcia at 04:17 PM | Comments (0)
November 04, 2005
Porn to be wild
'I want to be Porn star' he exclaimed
I, on the other hand, wanted to have a few days away from the madness of Brighton Gay Pride--------
AAAaaah, dear Al. The only Male Escort i know who travels 300 miles with a dozen red roses and a cheeky little rose champagne in ice cooler----- complete with Lalique crystal glasses.
What a star!!! And I was the recipient.
I decided to go visit his home town in the hope that we could maybe link up again---and besides there were other attractions to the city of Birmingham.
There was another guy advertising his services on AdultWork, and his incessant texting, whilst irritating, had piqued my libidinal interest.
I let Virgin Trains take the strain, and ascertained from the buffet car operater that:' there are more lapdancing clubs in Birmingham per square mile than anywhere in the U.K.' I SAY!!!!
Perversity being my middle name (i had a dinner date with Al at 8.30) i nevertheless proceeded to ring proposed conquest number two, hoping i could 'squeeze him in' before fine dining.
He wanted to come straight to my hotel, but i wanted to get the lay of the terrain----and found myself wandering to a development called: The Mail Box.
Next door was Malmaison the bar- restaurant, and hotel.
What the hell, i was on 'ho' holiday and wandered in like John Wayne just rode into town. As is my wont, i ordered a glass of chilled rose champage.
My waiter exclaimed: 'you're from Brighton aren't you?'
Bloody hell, i would make a dreadful career criminal---instantly recognisable from 4 hours worth of travel time.
I watched the friday lunchtime carousers gearing up for the big week end---and ordered another glass.
'Mr Adultwork' kept up the pressure text wise, but it was a beautiful day, i was free from the shackles of erotic service providing and the world was my lobster.
I eventually wandered (staggered) into the shopping complex and decided to have a late lunch----after all, i would be needing my energy!!!!
By the time i got back to Base i was knackered and decided to have a Churchillian 'power nap'.
The text fiend would just have to wait.
I roused from my slumber to find that i had 45 mins to make a glamour transformation for the evening ahead. My phone registered frantic texts from Mr Text---and a moment of madness won.
'Never put of until tommorrow what you can do today' they say. Accordingingly i put myself under the most heinous pressure, and said yes to my (for the past YEAR) ardent admirer. A quick text to tell Al i was running late.......but obviously ommiting the reason why.
Mr 'Why' rang the doorbell. Nice. Very nice.
I blurted, 'i don't have much time i'm going out soon'.
He was unfazed and proceeded to do to me what he had been threatening (boasting) he could do,........ for the past year.
I'm pretty speedy out of the starting gate where achieving a climax is concerned, but if i'm under pressure i lose the plot. My gunpowder refuses to go of with a bang.
I squinted at the time showing on the Hotel T.V----BOLLOCKS!!!!! I was was behind schedule!!!
I employed every technique i knew in the time honoured fashion of tipping over the climax cliff, and was failing miserably----it wasn't the delivery of the pleasure (the boy did good), it was knowing i had another cutie pie arriving at my hotel in 4 minutes.
I fantasised about cats (really) dogs (uh huh) big, small, old, young fat, thin, grotesques,borderline family members, scenes of unimaginable (apart from mine) depravity-------
My legs and face were twitching and i felt as if the beat of my heart was at the zenith of heartbeats allowed before pulminary embollism kicks in.
Bingo!!! What a relief, i allowed myself 20 seconds recovery and a 5 second cuddle. Big mistake, He wanted his Quid pro quo and i didn't have the time to recipricate. His mood changed like a tropical rainstorm---and he left (as in, flounced out the door on not the best of terms.
Al was waiting with a glass of chilled champagne downstairs and boy did i need it.
Dinner was a gastronomic delight at Brindley Place at a 2 Star Michelin (Raymond Blanc) joint
Our second night of pleasure went even better than on Al's inaugral trip and i showed him how to make it in the Porn world.
'Al, you are going to have to deliver the Money shot when the director says: 'GoGoGo'....so let's practice' i said
I counted down from 20...and by 7 his ardour was in spurt mode.
'Whoa there, a bit premature petal' i cried.
'I thought you was counting from 10' was his reply.
What a star...cumming to your T.V soon no doubt!!!!
Posted by Letitcia at 11:03 PM | Comments (0)
August 01, 2005
Two Box Odyssey
I cannot remember the last time i had a holiday----but there are 104 of my fabulous books having the time of their lives--at MY EXPENSE!!!!!-----
Listen very carefully, for i will say ziz only once: THERE ONCE WERE TWO BOXES of my books (104)........ from the printer's in Lewes, they then wended their way to Babylon by the sea, 'Brigthonhelm'
They were indeed fortunate, in that they wound up in my sumptuous apartment in Kemp Town--and were placed next to my radiator (it was November).
Then the nasty ogre 'arry grabbed them in his well honed arms (he says they are like pythons) to ferry them the short distance to his store where he was going to sell them for filthy lucre.
They froze their bollocks off.
No median temperature of 75 for them.
they were in the stock room/toilet area.
'arry wanted to relocate to the Costa del Crime (only joking 'arry) and these final 2 boxes of unsold items were carried lovingly/lugged by their spiritual mother--- (me)---200 yards up the street to the Clonezone store,
Tony the manager (bless him) looked after them as best he could, though he did wrap them in cotton wool --just in case homosexuality was catching.
Two weeks later they got their call up papers.
They were to star in my COVENT GARDEN BOOK SIGNING.
A nice van was coming ALL THE WAY from Manchester, via London---through to Bournmouth and FINALLY they were picked up and journeyed up to the 'big smoke'.
They finally saw daylight, they were unwrapped by SonJa and Alan, who, let's say were 'a match made in heaven'.
They were strewn around the Kinky coffee shop and lounge area---where on the night of the signing they were (like their Mum) fondled, stroked and assiduously perused.
Unfortunately there were other BODYWORSHIP books in stock---and once again they were unceremoniously packed back in their little box and dumped in the stock room.
They were feeling mighty unappreciated (i know the feeling)---especially as i had abandoned them and dragged both my gargantuan hangover and myriad hatboxes back to Brighton.
Guilt pricked my concience (once a catholic girl, ALWAYS a catholic girl)and i resolved to pick them up---though not literally, since they are sodding heavy.
We (myself and cheeky chappy Carl) eventually rescued them with a commando like raid on the premises.... and spirited them away in a London Cab----just one mile down the road to Soho.
Old Compton street was to be their home for a while---or so i thought---but the dastardly Manager of the shop didn't want them taking up space---AND THEY WERE PICKED UP BY THE MANCHESTER LONDON BOURNMOUTH BRIGHTON VAN.
They are now taking up space once more in Clone Zone Brighton--i popped in to see them the other day, i swear i heard them whimpering---but they will (all things being equal)be appearing on the stall at Brighton Gay Pride
The problem is now: Do i leave it in the hands of the head honcho's from either London or Manchester ---who will be coming to Brighton especially for the gay festival--or have i got to chuffing fork out MORE ill gotten gains, to ensure that the public can be polluted by my tawdry offering----
If they do put in an appearance on the trade stand, and for some reason they are not sold---I AM BLOODY WELL NOT HEAVING THEM BACK INTO BRIGHTON.
They can stay and be trampled on by 100,000 cross dressing, transgendered,lesbian/gay,pre op, post op, mid op---i don't care.
Kids!! who'd have 'em eh???
Posted by Letitcia at 08:38 PM