Wednesday, February 26, 2014


The theme of today’s post is blond women, who are often unfairly stereotyped as brainless bimbos. The truth is that blondes, like most other classes of human, are a mixed bag. To demonstrate this, I’ll discuss three flaxen-haired ladies who are as different as chalk, cheese and chutney.

Let’s start with Zivile Useckaite, pictured alongside, who is the chalk. She lives in Dublin and rears a remarkably ugly breed of bald cat, often dressing them in brightly-coloured garments. This may be necessary to prevent them from shivering. Her hobby is undoubtedly eccentric, but Ms Useckaite is no fool because she works in cancer research. Her cats look as if they’re on chemotherapy, so maybe they remind her of her worthy occupation.

The cheese is Eva Braun, the long-suffering mistress and short-lived spouse of Adolf Hitler. A long lost painting of her has been found in an attic and is expected to fetch six thousand pounds on auction. Was she stupid? Yes, but it couldn’t be helped. Hitler would never have tolerated a clever woman who criticised his military strategy or made ironic remarks about moustache. Furthermore, pictures of Eva suggest her hair was dirty blond or maybe even light brown. This shows that the fuehrer was willing to compromise on racial features to obtain a mistress who was suitably dim and docile. You can’t think less of blond women because of Eva Braun.

And now to the chutney, a retired model called Blondie Bennett, who wants to be a life-sized Barbie doll. Her admiration for the plastic princess is both fulsome and tinged with envy:

“She has the best life,” explains Blondie. “All she does is shop and make herself look pretty – she doesn’t worry about anything.”

Not that Blondie has much to worry about. She has an army of online sugar daddies who pay all her bills in return for photos of her in their favourite Barbie costumes.

Belittling Miss Bennett’s intelligence would be as easy as farting on a mushroom; but if you think she’d be upset by such insults, you’d be wrong. The incorrigible woman actually wants to be dumber, and is currently undergoing a program of hypnotherapy to make her more vacuous and Barbie-like.

“I’ve had 20 sessions and I’m already starting to feel ditzy and confused,” she said proudly. “I want people to see me as a plastic sex doll – and being brainless is a big part of that.”

Some might say that Blondie is wasting her money, because she couldn’t possibly be stupider than she already is. I would point out that the money she spends comes from her sugar daddies, so she doesn’t have to worry about wasting it. The hypnotherapy sessions will prove her commitment to the mission statement, even if they don’t make her noticeably dimmer, which should keep her sponsors happy.

In any case, I don’t believe Miss Bennett is really an airhead. How many humans are richly rewarded simply for imitating a doll? It isn’t even a good imitation if you look at her photo below. Only an expert in self-promotion could have pulled off her caper. She’s the kind of blonde I’d want on my team if I were planning the hoax of the century.

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Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Old man Clooney

George Clooney thinks he’s getting too old for acting. Silly man! Doesn’t he know that all the best character parts are written for craggy-faced dudes with interesting faces? What George really means is that he’s too old to play leading men who can make women perspire into their panties. This, I regret to say, is the mentality of a vain, strutting peacock. Why would I expect anything better of him? Because we gorillas have lofty ideals which we hope our human cousins will adopt.

Clooney should take inspiration from the example of Robert Redford, the former screen heartthrob, whom 36% of bored housewives fantasized about when their husbands were exercising their conjugal rights. Redford is now as wrinkly as a prune, but that didn’t stop him playing the leading (and only) role in a movie called All is Lost. After it was shown at Cannes, the audience burst into rapturous applause, acclaiming Redford as a cinematic legend whose feet they were not worthy to pedicure. It’s much easier to be admired for your acting when you don’t make the audience jealous or horny.

Things are not so easy for ageing actresses, of course. Shirley MaClaine played some charming old biddies, but whatever happened to Brigitte Bardot? I can’t remember her in a single role where she didn’t look like a fresh French tart. This must be a worry for Ludivine Sagnier, the aspiring French thespian who’s been hailed as the new Bardot. Her career took off when she took off her clothes in a film called The Swimming Pool – since then, all the Hollywood roles she’s been offered have required nude scenes as a matter of course:

“There is always on the brief written “naked part” or “naked scene”, and I don’t feel like that really connects with what I really am,” she explained.

I know how she feels. All the big screen roles I’m offered involve tree-climbing and chest-thumping. It goes without saying that there are lots of naked pictures of Ms Sagnier in cyberspace, but I’m not going to publish any of them here. When you’ve seen one perfectly-formed human female, you’ve seen them all.

I prefer women who expose their bodies without asking to be paid, usually to make an important statement. A recent example of such is 26-year-old Katarina Jovanovic, a former office worker in Belgrade. She resigned from her job by sending her boss a photograph of her naked body, tastefully obscured by an oilcloth with the Serbian words “I quit” written on it.

“I am not interested in sitting and working for one company until I get old and can retire,” explained Katarina. “It’s a mistake that everybody thinks that a paycheck and money are Man’s only purpose.”

This admirable sentiment makes her nakedness profoundly symbolic and meaningful, which is exactly what nakedness should be. Katarina plans to attend a weaving and pottery class, and is currently spending some time “experimenting”. I send her my best wishes and hope her experiments go well. 

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Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Bieber sex tape

Someone is trying to make a killing by selling a “sex tape” of Justin Bieber to the highest bidder. I wouldn’t give a nit in my arse for it. It seems that Bieber was secretly filmed showering Australian strippers with cash before spanking their bottoms and licking their nipples. That’s barely even embarrassing compared with his other recent exploits. What Bieber should do now is re-enact the incident and put a video of it on You Tube. This would make the illicit tape worthless and earn him respect for taking a stand against immoral profiteering. No one should make a fast buck just because Bieber cavorted with strippers. No one apart from the strippers, that is.

Bieber has been criticised for his conduct by a media insider called Bonnie Fuller, writing in the tone of a big sister scolding her errant baby brother. The gist of her argument is that spanking and licking strippers is sexist behaviour that degrades Bieber’s female fans. I’d like to hear the strippers’ side of the story before endorsing this opinion. They might have enjoyed the acts for which they were so handsomely compensated. There’s no point complaining about sexism if everyone is having fun – it just makes you look like a killjoy.

Ms Fuller also advises Justin to remember his courtship of Selina Gomez, a girl he was supposedly in love with. What good would that do? He probably regrets not licking and spanking her when he had the chance. You can’t turn back the clock and expect Justin to behave like the puppy-loving boy he was before he got jilted. The most romantic thing he would do now is launch a raid on the Playboy mansion and steal Hef’s floozies. It’s a mission of mercy that would have my full support.

What these well-meaning critics don’t understand is that Bieber’s brain is currently located in his pants. Maybe it will return to his head in due course – or maybe he’ll become another Bill Clinton. It has recently been alleged that the ex-president had an affair with Liz Hurley during his White House days. He has wisely refrained from denying the rumour, which would have been taken as proof of its truth. I wonder if Bill also had a heart-breaking adolescent love affair before he began his long career of shagging anything in a skirt. He and Bieber could then establish a man-whore support group for former jilted teenagers.

Romance may be dead for Justin and Bill, but it lives on inside the English kitchen. I refer to the case of Donna Musk, a 45-year-old Leicestershire woman who refused to cook a potato because it was shaped like a heart. It seems she wants to preserve it as some kind of love token from the god of the root vegetable.

“It's upstairs in my bedroom sitting on a pillow,” she revealed. “I don't know how long they last for but I'm keeping it really dry.”

Happy Valentine’s Day, Donna, but don’t expect your spud to turn into a stud.

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Wednesday, February 05, 2014

Skin without fur

The manager of the safari camp is highly agitated about an actress called Lucy Watson, and thinks I should share his excitement.

“She’s taking off her clothes to protest against the fur trade,” he explained. “Aren’t you grateful that a gorgeous woman is exposing her body to protect furry animals like yourself? I’m grateful and I’m not even furry!”

“I am hairy, manager, not furry,” I replied. There’s a profound difference between the two. My fine body filaments are not suitable for making coats. The fuzz beneath your armpits would do a better job.”

“That’s just splitting hairs!” guffawed the manager, delighted with his own wit. He sauntered off with a big grin on his face.

Now what of Miss Watson? Her justification for appearing on posters in a state of undress is to inform the general public that she’d rather be naked than wear fur. It’s a preference that does her credit, but I doubt it will change many minds. Off the cuff, I can think of two groups of humans who would pooh-pooh her notion:

(i) those who live in cold climates;

(ii) those who have saggy bottoms.

The former will find her argument fatuous, while the latter will view it as smug and conceited. And let’s not forget men like the manager of the safari camp, who will ogle the poster without any real concern for the issue. I fear that displaying her naked body is more likely to harden opinions than win converts.

The plain fact is that you can’t credibly protest against skinning animals without expressing support for alternative fabrics. Making a fetish of nudity won’t do. If Miss Watson wants to nail her colours to the anti-fur mast, she should wear acrylic instead of running around naked. The Velcro vixens of the ‘Dykes on Bikes’ movement are doing more for the cause than she is.

The grey area between fur and man-made fabrics is wool. Is it wrong to shear sheep against their will? Although they don’t appear to enjoy it, they must feel better afterwards. If I were encased in a thick coat of wool, I would happily allow a beer-guzzling Australian lout to shave it off. Sheep are simply too stupid to know what’s good for them.

Fleecing sheep when they get too shaggy may be ethical, but it goes without saying that they shouldn’t be molested in the interim period. I was sorry to see a news report of yet another hoary old pervert who’s been arrested for sheep abuse. The judge had to scold the jury for giggling at the flustered witnesses who testified against him. You don’t appreciate how disturbing such incidents are until you’ve seen them with your own eyes.

The existence of men who find sheep sexually attractive is an enduring puzzle. Some say that the hindquarters of a ewe are seductive when she trots across a field, but I think her bleating is a likelier explanation. One has to pity a creature that can fake orgasms without intending to.

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