This website is turnin me awn. That is why I’m writing a controversial blog to celebrate. The international tour is over and I’m on holiday with Nik. We’re staying in the same suite with different rooms and are frantically trying to not seem gay. We asked to hire a car from the receptionist in a manner so butch that I could only have enhanced the masculinity were I to have rendered the request in piping hot, white winky water across a photo of a lawn mower.
Well. I’ve had nude photos of me printed in the paper – which is my gift to me Mum this mothering Sunday – “There you go Mum no flowers for you – a censorial fig leaf over your child’s genitals will be flora enough. Happy Mother’s day.”
I never really complain about invasions into my privacy because I consider it a tax that one pays for the privilege of doing a job that I love but this I must say is transgressive. Your sex organs are known as your “privates” with good reason – they are yours and their revelation ought be exclusively controlled by you – their owner. I can imagine some arsehole devil’s advocate saying “Russell Brand? He always goes on about dinkels and sex and that – he doesn’t deserve privacy” Well, there is a difference between whimsically musing on the nature of sexuality and stealing, covertly images of someone without their knowledge or consent.
Having seen the photos of me blearily awakening to open the dawn curtains to get some air, I’m not too troubled – I look slim and they have censored my willy – a blessing because there is an incredible variety of dimensions that the off-duty penis can assume. Post sexually, on the come down from activity, the lil’ fella can look a real tough guy – all glistening and bloated, or when there’s a whiff of how’s yer father he can become perky and inquisitive – but, of course, on occasion he may feel shy and listless; sullenly nestling in a pubic duvet as if the glory of sex were an unknowable land. Regardless of the state of my beloved, prize-winning dick-stick I offer no mitigation – only love. Such joy has been give to me by that daft appendage and, like the Royal family, he can’t answer back. God bless you M’am.
Now the controversial part… What is the pope on about “condoms make AIDS worse” that’s what he said. Not to worry he was probably only mucking around – he probably just said it alone in the mirror or whispered it into a shoe. No. He said it in front of 60,000 people in a football stadium in AFRICA – oh well that’s very responsible. Id feel guilty if I lied to one girl with that balderdash “I shan’t be wearing a condom tonight dear – it’ll only enhance the risk of AIDS. Also we’ll be doing it with your mum an all – it is mothers day.” Nuts! Then he said “Death will not defeat us, life will triumph over death, death will not have the final word.” I’m pretty sure death will have the final word. That is the one certainty in life – death. I don’t want to disparage Catholicism or offend it’s millions of followers but someone needs to look into that pointy white hat and check who’s driving because currently God’s anointed leader is a twaddle box.
In other news… Fritzl – obviously an awful case – OBVIOUSLY so I don’t want to seem glib – but… the other day in court he said two things that messed me up a bit. Here they are.
“Elizabeth exaggerated about the cellar”
“They always had plenty of food”
Ok. So what’s your point mate? That it was nice down there? That Elisabeth was somehow ungrateful for her life in a spacious coffin in which the “final word” of death would’ve been a welcome buzz? “That cellar was nice. It was warm – it was romantic – terrific mood lighting for the constant incestuous sex.” And as for this abundant delicious nosh he claims he was providing, I cant help but think it’d be scant consolation for the Grandkids who’d never seen daylight. “Oh no! Granddad/Dad is touching Mum/sister/cousin… again.” “Oh cheer up and have a hob-nob”
Stay with us in the “Wrong passage” I appreciate your comments, input and love and soon you’ll be able to contribute your own photos, clips and feelings.
Ta ta comrades
