One of our regular contributors to these pages left a comment earlier this week offering the sage advice of not using washing-up liquid as a lubricant when engaging in The Acts of Venus. "It hurts", she says, surprising nobody at all, and I'd wager good money that there'll be bubbles coming out of those most private of places for weeks to come.
This important consumer advice duly noted for future reference, and we also draw the reader's attention to the inherent dangers of misusing Glade 'Touch and Fresh' and Brillo pads.
I cannot laugh, however.
There is a moment, you see, in the sordid process of thrashing about in the Tournament of Aphrodite, where you might grab just about anything out of the bedside cabinet, hoping this it is KY Gel, and not, in fact Preparation H.
In the half-light, and with the bedside cabinet of a hypochondriac, you are engaging in one thing and one thing only: Pecker Roulette.
And, sadly, I have lost.
For what I thought was soothing, slippery, pleasure-bringing lubricant turned out to be Deep Heat. Deep Heat for my gammy knee.
I could, dear understanding reader, have boiled a kettle with my bell-end.
The wife: she LOLed, and our passion died.
Alas, I have found that whilst it is relatively easy to laugh a lady into bed, they're still too busy laughing when they get there. Can't think why.
May contain traces of vomit
And while I am getting this stuff off my pink oboe with a handy cheese grater and catering-size bucket of Mr Muscle oven cleaner, I offer you the lesser-spotted Thursday vote-o. Choose, plz, one of the following chunder-heavy stories for tomorrow's reading pleasure:
* The Dog Smiles - features vomit
* Carnival - features vomit
* M. le Maire - features vomit
A wide selection of subject matter, I think you'll agree. Get in!
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