The premise: Richard Desmond owns the puritanical Daily and Sunday Express, that writes about nothing except filthy illegal immigrants coming over here to take our jobs, and the latest enjoyable thing that's guaranteed to give you cancer. They are titles that daren't look down in case they notice their own genitals. Norman Tebbitt loves the Express, which says it all, really. Conversely, the same Richard Desmond also owns a large chain of pornographic titles, including such publications as "Forum", "Asian Babes", "Big Ones", and the the lovers of wrinkly old slappers, "Forty Plus", "Fifty Plus" and (gulp) "Sixty Plus", which comes with a free bus pass for every model.
What if, then, the two sides of Dirty Desmond's empire collided?
Dear Forum Magazine,
You won't believe the incredible thing that happened to me the other day.
There I was, sitting behind my computer screen struggling to find a new scandal to blame on illegal immigrants when I received an urgent call to go down to see Matilda Scrimley-Chang, the buxom, mature, Asian babe editor of the Daily Express womens' section. Her breathing was heavy and laboured, and I was certain that she didn't want to talk to me about a couple of extra pages for the latest Paris fashions.
I marched into her office to she her release her dark, flowing hair from the usually tight bun, and pull off her dreadfully unfashionable winged glasses. After years of dowdy dressing and starchy editorial meetings, she stood in front of me wearing a leather basque and very little else, strands of hair playing on her pert nipples.
"Oh Dicky, you naughty, naughty newpaper owner" she purred at me, one hand on her hip, the other pulling me towards her by my tie; my loins on fire at the anticipation of the night of lust to come.
We kissed, deeply and passionately, my hands exploring her body. We pulled away as she whispered "Have you met my twin sister? She's as hot for you as I am.", and there she was naked, sprawled across the desk, leafing through a copy of last month's Hot Gang Bang Slutzzz, new from my very own publishing company.
Two for the price of one, just like our Express reader offer for a day trip to Calais. Cash back! I rule!
Then a thought struck me. I was as good as dead! My ardour totally dampened as I remembered the warnings of that day's front page:
"EXTRA-MARITAL SEX CANCER SCARE!"
Hoisted by my own petard, I staggered back to my desk, my gonads the size of basketballs.
Yours
Richard D
PS Print this letter or you're all sacked.
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