Snow White was paid a visit by the randy Prince Charming. They rushed straight to her bedroom and closed the door. No sooner was the door closed when the Seven dwarfs, led by Nosey, rushed up to the keyhole. Nosey immediately positioned his eye to the hole. The other six lined up behind him. Nosey gave the running commentary of events, which was passed on down the line. It went something like this. He’s got her on the bed – on the bed – on the bed; he’s kissing her – kissing her – kissing he; he’s got her nickers of – nickers off – nickers off. Just then, Prince Charming becomes put off by some muttering he hears coming from the door, so he jumps off the bed and makes his way over to the door. Nosey gasps and shouts he’s coming – he’s coming – he’s coming, which changes to: so am I – so am I – so am I.
This man was approached by a prostitute. Business was slow and she was trying hard to attract his business. He rejected all of her advances. She became frustrated and annoyed and said, “Are you queer or something?” “No, quite the reverse,” he said, “I’m actually rather kinky, that’s why it wouldn’t work.” The prostitute went on to explain that she had dealt with all sorts of kinky men and offered him his money back if not completely satisfied. “Well, OK, but it won’t work, I’m too kinky.” So off they went to her place and they got stripped off. “Well, let’s see what you got, big boy,” she said. “Well, as well as being kinky, I’m also very shy, so do you mind if we put the light off?” he asked. She agreed and lay back waiting for the action. Quite a few minutes passed by and all she could hear was a bit of shuffling about and a few groans here and there. Finally, there was a huge orgasmic exclamation and then the light went on and the man was fastening up his trousers. He pulled a few twenty pound notes out of his pocket and said, “Thanks very much, that was really great.” “But you haven’t done anything yet,” she said. “Ah, I told you I was kinky; I’ve just shit in your handbag.”
A company representative was told by his boss that he was sending him on a business trip to Japan. This caused the man great excitement and worry in equal measures as he had never been abroad before. His anxiety was relieved somewhat by a work colleague who had done a similar trip a couple of years earlier. He told his fellow worker most of what to expect and he made copious notes on what he told him. He was especially interested in the social aspects and was particularly looking forward to attending a bathing session with Geisha girls. As the trip grew nearer, he was really looking forward to it.
The trip soon became reality and everything that his work colleague had told him turned out to be exactly as he had said. Soon the anxious businessman was bathing with the Geishas. They washed his every part much to his delight and he was virtually drunk with pleasure. Then one of the Geisha girls asked him if he would like the wax treatment. He could not recall this aspect during his conversation with his work colleague, but he was so overcome with pleasure that he said he would have the wax treatment. The Geisha girl wrapped her hand around his prick and led him out of the water and into a side room. In this room was a table with a block of wood on the top. This block of wood had a scalloped section on the top. The businessman’s prick was carefully placed onto the scalloped section. Then a side door opened and a great big muscular karate expert entered into the room and gave this exposed prick an almighty karate chop – and the wax shot out of the businessman’s ears.
This man reached his seventies and thought that his days may be numbered. He thought that he had better join a Church, just in case there is a happy hunting ground. He was walking down the street when he saw a priest coming out of the Catholic Church, so he approached him and asked to join the Church. The sceptical priest went on to explain that it would not be like joining a working men’s club, as he would have to demonstrate some commitment before he would be accepted. “How will I do that?” the man asked. “Well let’s see, do you smoke?” asked the priest. “Well I smoke forty a day.” came the reply. “And do you drink?” asked the priest. The response was, “I like to have my ten pints every night at the club,” came the answer. “And do you participate in any sexual activity?” “Oh yes, me and the wife like a bit of rumpy-pumpy every night.” The priest was highly unimpressed and said to the man, “Well, if you can refrain from doing those three things for two weeks, come back and see me in a fortnight and we will see about you joining the Church.” Two long weeks pass by and the nervous gentleman returns to see the priest. “Well, how have you got on my son? How have you managed with the cigarettes?” “Well, much as I have craved for one, not a single cigarette has touched my lips,” came the response. “That’s very good, now how about the demon drink?” he asked. “Well, much as I have craved for a drink, not a drop has passed my lips,” he said. The priest was impressed so far and asked the last question, “Well, my son, how have you managed about the sex?” The man hesitated and said, “Well, I was doing very well until yesterday, when my wife asked me if I fancied a bit of chicken for tea. I said that I would and when she was bending down to the bottom of the freezer to get at the chicken, I saw the top of her stockings and suspenders and I just could not resist any longer. So, I jumped on her and gave her one.” “Ah, that’s absolutely disgusting, get out; you’re banned from joining this Church!” shouted the Priest. The man said, “That’s nothing, I’m banned from Tesco as well.”
A man was released from prison and was extremely hungry for sex. He went into town and secured the services of the first prostitute that he came across. He rushed her straight to the nearest bed and breakfast establishment that he could find. He could only secure an attic room. He didn’t care and got straight down to work on his hired pleasure. The room had two dormer windows and some unusually shaped walls which resulted in shadows all around the room. As he was coming to a climax, he suddenly became aware of two strange moving shadows, which were distracting him. He managed to turn his head and look towards the bottom of the bed and he noticed that this woman’s feet were moving rapidly up and down. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “Well it’s your fault,” she answered, “You never gave me time to get my tights off.”
This young boy had always been unlucky. He lost his father at an early age and had been bullied all of his school life. He left school at thirteen and worked at menial jobs to help support his small family’s income, where he was again mercilessly bullied. Soon the First World War broke out and there was a mix up with his age, so he was enrolled into the army and ordered to report to barracks at a certain day and time. On the day he was late leaving home, missed his bus and therefore arrived late at the barracks. The sergeant who greeted him took an instant dislike to him. He immediately had the boy doing press-ups and scrubbing the drill yard with a toothbrush; your typical horrible little man syndrome. He then marched the exhausted boy around to the stores office to collect his uniform. The stores officer had gone home and the stores appeared to be bare. The sergeant could not find any kit for this poor boy. In anger, the sergeant found an old pair of overalls and said, “Put those on.” He then went to the weapons section, only to find this bare also. He found a piece of wood and threw it at the boy and said, “Here is your rifle.” “What will I do with this, Sir?” the boy asked. “Stick it under your arm-pit, point the other end at the enemy and shout bangie-bangie.” The confused boy practised. Then the sergeant found a leftover bruised banana and threw it at the boy and said, “Here is your bayonet.” “What will I do with that, sir?” asked the boy. “Tie it on to your rifle with this piece of string and shout sticky-sticky.” He then ushered the boy off to his barracks and told him to get some sleep as they were off to the Front tomorrow morning. Sure enough, they were off to France and they were soon knee-deep in water and mud in the trenches. Very soon there were thousands and thousands of Germans marching menacingly towards them. Then came the order to open fire. The British troops fired so many bullets that they began to run out of ammunition after about half an hour – and still the Germans kept coming. The aforementioned sergeant, who was patrolling the length of the trenc
hes, came across his little friend who was covering down and covering his ears and shouted: “Soldier, why aren’t you firing your rifle?” so the terrified young lad puts the piece of wood into his armpit, as previously instructed, takes aim and shouts: “bangie-bangie.” To his amazement a German soldier falls over. He repeats the process and the same thing happens. By now the troops have all run out of ammunition and they are all now watching this young lad felling all of the Germans. Pretty soon, after the smoke clears, the ground, as far as could be seen, is covered in dead Germans. This young lad has saved the day and all of the rest of the troops are cheering and applauding this little lad. “He’ll get a VC for this!” someone shouts. But wait, there in the distance is one large German soldier left and he is marching towards them. “Go on, get him, he’s yours!” So, the young lad takes aim and shouts: “bangie-bangie!” but to no effect. The German is still coming. He tries again, but still, no effect. Then the sergeant shouts: “Get him with your bayonet!” So, the young lad, to the amazement of everyone, ties the old banana to the end of his stick with a piece of string. He goes over the top and positions himself firmly in front of the German and thrusts his bayonet forward shouting “sticky-sticky” but the German still keeps advancing and tramples the young lad into the mud shouting “tanky-tanky, tanky-tanky!”
Those were the main contenders – you can choose your own winner. Despite the agreed rules, the vote was influenced by the delivery of the teller and the gestures and actions displayed. For the record, the last joke was voted the winner.
Chapter Thirteen
College Life Continues
By now, I had been lumbered with the role of Entertainment Manager. I already did the formal College role of dine ins, where I organised and did most of the speeches. Now I was organising end of course functions. I already had a list of contacts relating to comedians (although we had enough of our own comedians), singers, exotic dancers and strippers of all types. I could cater for the discerning diner at the best restaurants or the really rough strippers who would only be accommodated in farmers’ barns. I also had the added bonus of contacts for female residential colleges, nurses and bank staff. It’s amazing how hungry these people get when away from home.
I had one particular course of junior officers who were away from home for six weeks, as most of them were from northern Scotland (a ten-hour drive without hold-ups) and one or two from overseas. They were particularly keen to have the dirtiest strippers that I could find. I found a couple of ‘beauts’ from Birmingham; rough as a Badgers arse, but looking very attractive to these guys after five weeks or so of abstinence. It was a bit like the ugly camel joke, and they kept asking as the date drew nearer what these girls were like and, more especially, imagined what they were going to do with them. Just about all of them had put themselves forward for the customary audience participation. The night arrived and these guys had got themselves into a frenzy. We all made our way to a remote farmer’s barn with food and barrels of beer laid on. They were all downing as many pints as they could and constantly looking at their watches. I was in telephone contact with the strippers and kept them up-to-date with progress. A barn in the middle of a field down a dark, unlit country road is not the easiest location to find, so it was no surprise that they did not arrive until nearly 10:30pm. By now, the eager participants were well pissed and the arrival of the strippers increased the rate of drinking, in part in relief and partly in preparation for the up-coming event. The strippers insisted on having a drink with me first and to talk terms and expectations. They also offered me a ‘freebie’ as commission. Now, I am particular where I park my bike, but apart from that, I could not keep the troops waiting any longer, so I hastened them to get on with their act. After a bit of tantalisation, they got a number of the audience to remove their trousers and underwear. They also obtained a number of ties and proceeded to tie overhand knots on their willies and parade them around like performing elephants. I noticed that some of the knots were very tight indeed, practically severing the members and certainly cutting off the blood supply. They were all going purple. One by one, they were untied (some had real problems) and were laid on the ground and stimulated by the performing ladies. The only trouble was that they had great difficulty in finding a participant who could come up with the goods, if you will pardon the expression. This was obviously due to their lengthy anticipation and too much alcohol. As usual, the most unlikely characters rise to the occasion. Now this made the others really angry and embarrassed that they could not raise themselves to join in. It was pitiful to see a circle of men trying to stimulate themselves. These strippers were extremely streetwise and literally played with their foe, managing to tease out extra cash for ‘extra’ performances. Anyhow, everyone managed to enjoy themselves, even though they had been had.
The College was running to full capacity of 650 students per week and the numbers of courses and the facilities that they wanted meant that end of course functions were running every evening (Monday through to Thursday) to ensure that they got the facilities and venues that they requested. Quite a logistical nightmare. Many staff functions took place on a Friday evening, which meant that I missed many of them due to the fact that I had to travel home to visit family members, go out with friends and associates and sometimes have a paid fight. So, life was really busy. Unfortunately, I once had to return home in an emergency and I completed the 250 miles in under three hours. I liked that time saving, so pretty soon, I was cruising well over the magic ton every journey. I once took a friend of mine with me, who was attending a course at the College, and he produced a sandwich out of a bag to eat at Scotch Corner. He still had not eaten it when we arrived in Gloucestershire. It may have been fear, but he also asked if we had come through a time zone. To me it was worth the extra 25% fuel for the time saving. The introduction of speed cameras presented a nuisance, but in six years of travelling up to 50,000 miles per year, I managed to avoid all penalties, plus I had the back-up of a blue light (same as Police) on the back shelf of the car, should I get caught out.
I was having a very busy life and did not think that I could fit anything else in. I was nominated by the College to attend a training advisory meeting at the Home Office in London. I thought, this is going to be as good as a day off; a nice rail journey through all of the Cotswold villages can’t be bad. On the return journey, I was sat minding my own business when the ticket inspector entered the carriage. He was a right piece of work and the Christian name of Adolf would have suited him well. He was so rude to everyone and I could feel an uneasy anger building up. He was absolutely appalling to a young student and made him pay an exorbitant amount of money because of an apparently invalid ticket. I thought to myself, it’s not my business and I didn’t know anything about the fare structure. The inspector was consistent and was rude to everyone; I was looking forward to any confrontation that I may have. When he got to me, everything was in order and I got a “Thank you, Sir.” The lady sitting opposite me was very well dressed and much be-jewelled. She fumbled in her bag and her ticket, when retrieved, was for the wrong day of travel. Well, this ticket inspector went into overdrive and I could not keep silent anymore. I really let fly: “Hey, are you a natural arsehole or did you have to go on courses for it?” I shouted. The lady was getting distressed so I grabbed this arsehole by his collar and dragged him to the bottom of the carriage away from the other passengers and told him that if he didn’t buck up his attitude, I was going to rip his head off and shit down the stump. Now he obviously had not heard that one before and he was visibly shaken because he disappeared from the carriage and did not come back. I came back to my seat to rapturous applause and the lady opposite thanked me profusely. She gave me her business card and asked me to visit her at that address, which was an elegant hotel in a neighbouring village.
Intrigued, I paid a visit at a later date on a free hour that I had spare, only to find that she was not there. I had a quick pint and then began to leave, when in she walked. I was greeted
like a long-lost son. She told all the punters about our first encounter, which they had obviously heard before. She told me to get behind the counter and help myself to a drink, so I pulled myself a pint and she insisted that I help myself from the optics. Pretty soon she said, “Off we go, I’m taking you out to dinner.” So off we went to this very posh and expensive restaurant in a very up-market village. I ordered a steak and when it arrived she asked me if I liked lobster, to which I nodded. She quickly summoned the waiter and shouted, “Bring him a lobster as well.” I was most embarrassed, but polished off the lot including wines, shorts and lager. Well it would be rude not to. We went back to her place for more drinks and I expressed my worry about driving back. “Oh, it’s alright, I know all of the police and what times they patrol where, but that’s not a problem, you will be staying here and you can get off early in the morning after breakfast.” She then showed me a long corridor of rooms and said: “Pick one, or you can share mine.” So I picked one and left early the next morning, disappointed that I had let someone down for one evening only.
So, it was back on the trail after a night off. I accompanied some students to a nightclub near Birmingham which was a good distance away and I met several women who had had affairs with other instructors who had now left. I became the hunted replacement and had freebies in the car park as a taster and an encouragement to call back. I did call one of them a few nights later and stayed the night at her place as per custom. The next morning, I was awakened by two youngsters climbing into the bed to be beside their mother. I found this to be most embarrassing as I was naked and needed to get out of the bed, shower and get going. Needless to say, I did not go back there.
Secret Squirrel Page 11