I received a text this week, from a number that my phone didn’t recognise. It was a joke, and the joke was so excellent that I’ve decided to rewrite it here, as an equally excellent sketch.
INT. AFTERNOON. GARY AND TOM’S BEDROOM.
Gary : Well, that rounds off a weekend of nothing but hot fucking. I’m just going to get some Lucozade from the shops.
Tom : Yes. All this frantic, mindless fucking has pushed us both to the brink of exhaustion and death, rather.
Gary : I’ll be back in five minutes. And don’t you go and have a wank – I want all that spunk of yours in my ever-hungry mouth.
GARY LEAVES. PAN TO CLOCK. IT MOVES FORWARD FIVE MINUTES. PAN BACK TO THE ROOM. THE WALLS AND CEILING ARE UTTERLY COVERED IN SEMEN. A JUG, HALF TIPPED OVER, HAS BEEN FROZED MID-TEETER BY THE QUICK-DRYING JISM. SPUNKY STALACTITES ARE BEGINNING TO FORM FROM THE STANDARD LAMP. IT IS LIKE A WONDEROUS ICE CAVERN OF WASTED FERTILITY. GARY RE-ENTERS WITH LUCOZADE.
Gary : Oh Tom! You had a wank!
Tom : No Gary! That’s not the case at all! I farted!
Gary : LOL OK lets wipe toast against the wall and eat it.
Tom : ROFL4EVA
[actual text joke here]
I hadn’t heard a gay joke in ages, so when two came along in the same week, I made a nauseating gurgle of pleasure. The text – well, that was only 160 characters. The second amazing gay joke? Well, it’s basically exactly the same joke as that text, but spread over two pages of a women’s magazine. New Woman have decided to run their staff homo as a public GBF (gay best friend!) who doles out sass-laden sex tips to women who wouldn’t know their cunts from a bag of Monster Munch.
Here’s the photo that went with the article. For those of you in wheeled chairs, I must ask you to place a sturdy bulldog clip over your bell-end. Otherwise, the backwards force from your ejaculation could propel you through a car-wash, or something. To the straight gentleman who read this, this is the man who’s telling your girlfriend to put a finger up your anus and nibble your perineum (and, following magazine etiquette, I am legally obliged to follow perineum with “the bit between your balls and bum”).
Look at that! He’s not even taking the glasses from his mouth with his hand, in an attempt to look thoughtful! He’s just letting them swing from his mouth! Stephen, for your reference, I’ve made a quick chart which I call “The Dangerous Blackjack Of Trying To Look Clever With Glasses“.
17 : You are wearing glasses.
This is an excellent start to “looking clever”.
18 : You tilt your head down and look over your glasses.
Wonderful. You now look questioning, and perhaps a little superior.
19 : You hold your glasses, and manoeuvre them to the end of your nose.
This is librarianesque, and really knocks up the sense of academic can-do.
20 : You actually take off your glasses to look at someone.
This is what lawyers do, when they’re about to win the case for their client. It’s devastatingly intelligent, and you will require three weeks on charge before you can effectively repeat the move.
21 : Removing your glasses, you gently hook one arm of the glasses into your mouth, whilst holding onto the frame between your forefinger and thumb.
This is pretty much as intelligent as you can be, without maths and the capitals of countries squirting out of your pores like narrow worms of Primula.
22 : You let go with your hand, and allow your glasses to swing freely from your mouth. Disaster! You’ve just overstepped the mark, and now you look like a complete fucking idiot. You might as well go around asking people “HAVE OO SEEN MY GLATHES? I’VE LOOKED EVVYWHERE. DOOOOO.” Also, you’re not kidding any cunt with those photoshopped eyes, dollface.
I loved the tips so much that I’ve flouted copyright laws and put scans of them at the bottom of the page. Also, I’ve read the first one out in a funny voice. But now, what I’m here for. I’m going to give my OWN AMAZING SET OF SEX TIPS FOR STRAIGHT WOMEN. Horroay!
1. FART INTO EACH OTHER’S BIG SEXY ASSES
Quit looking at me like some kinda frumpy cunt with no face – unless you gonna give him what he wants, you gonna die stupid and lonely, sucking at that sensible cardigan you wore to your prom. Honey – nothing is more erotic than locking your bum-pussies together. That feeling as they click into place, and your bodies become one gorgeous bundle of ass-bloom, it’s as priceless as a baby’s smile. And once you’ve got them locked, don’t be getting shy. Fart back and forth, like you’re cutting up a log with a two-man saw.
And don’t get prissy if you feel a turd slipping out – what could be more romantic than mixing up your shits in an airtight ass-tunnel? I actually can’t think of anything. And if he’s too shy to do it, get rid. You don’t need a wilting pansy cluttering up your fuck-windows. Life’s too short to not spend every second of it fucking like a robot.
2. IF YOU CAN FIT HIS DICK IN IT, STICK HIS DICK IN IT
If you declare any part of your body a no-go area, then you deserve all the domestic abuse you get. Last night I was out with my best girlfriend, and while she was at the bar I took over seven fat dicks in my tear duct. It was agonising, and I’ve still got a blinding case of lens smear, but I didn’t complain. I moaned like I was getting my balls licked by God himself. Sex isn’t all about you, so stop being such a selfish bitch.
Be inventive! If you get a paper cut, why not pull back the little sliver of skin and let him dress up as a doctor and fuck it? You’ll be thanking me when he’s buying you a new Renault Megane. I got so many Renault Meganes I’ve started driving them into lakes, and why? Because I’m a million fuckable holes, and men love that.
3. BE SO DIRTY HE ACTUALLY YELPS IN DISGUST
Speaking as a gay man, I like nothing more than finding a scotch egg up a fella’s toot-chute when I’m rimming him. Everyone loves a surprise, and it shows that he’s thinking of me. So why not put some advance planning into the love act? Break into a pensioner’s house, and get grimy in the airing cupboard. Or you could stick both hands up his ass on Rita – Queen of Speed at Alton Towers. Or just go back to basics, take handfuls of uppers and hallucinogens, and spend the evening counting your penny collections or going through the beats on an electric piano.
HAPPY FUCKING, YOU BUNCH OF STUPID STRAIGHT CUNTS!
As promised, here’s that article for you to look read. It’s exactly this kind of thing that led me, as a fear-bloated 17-year-old, to invent a new sexuality called “Me And Bruce McCulloch From Kids In The Hall Living In A House And Watching Telly Together”. Read. Read them. Read the sex tips. Oh God, won’t you just read them.