Monthly Archives: July 2011
Here at Get Laid we always tirelessly strive to help you improve your love lives. Ladies, you have to make yourself alluring. Speaking French is always an asset….’Voulez vous couchez avec moi ce soir…?’ as the great Lady Marmalade once said. Believe me, you can trust those posh knobs to tell it like it is, especially if they’ve got jam all over them, the dirty beggars!.
French is the language of love. Par example-r -French kissing – snogging with a load of onions and garlics around your gob, French letters – when you have sèx with an accent on the ‘e’. And best of all, French polishing, when you have sex on hard shiny tables with these garlics placed in every orifice.
Being sexy is about more than just pulling your tights down behind the bus stop – although some girls don’t even bother with that, yes Doris, I am referring to you. Most blokes said when encountering Doris for the first time – ‘If I’d known you were a virgin I’d have taken more time’, to which she would reply, ‘If I’d known you had more time, I’d have taken my tights off’….
Anyway, I digress. To make yourself irresistable ladies, you have to make the right noises. I’m not talking the oohs and ahhs here. I am talking wild animal noises. Literally. You have to tailor yourself to your specific strengths. If you can roar authentically like a lion, then roar girlfriend. If your speciality is giraffe whoops, then that’ll make somebody very happy. As for myself, my noble beast of choice, the specialite de la maison, if you will, is the majestic pigeon.
Men like to get in touch with their inner beast. And I like to get in touch with my inner pigeon. I used to hang around Trafalgar Square hoping for action, but all I ever got was bits of bread and the odd peanut. Once I pursued Boris Johnson shouting ‘Coo’, but he was ashamed of the rampant passion I aroused in his manly bosom – he put me on an Asbo.
I think the lesson to be learned here is, Don’t peak too soon. When you spot that gorgeous hunk in the pet aisle at Sainsbury’s, confine yourself to a hushed ‘croo-oo’. You’ll get his attention. When you’ve got him down the nightclub you can go a bit further: Flap your wings, flaunt your tail feathers. And when you’re finally at home with the lights down low, stripped to a cardboard beak and a few plumes, then go, sister, go crack that shell and fertilize those eggs……………
Hello once more from the delectable Mary Christmas. Now I know some of you might find me intimidating because of my ravishing beauty. How can I approach her, you think? She, the guiding light to so many young women and the object of unattainable desire to every man. That’s why I’m wearing these deelyboppers, so you don’t see me as the unreachable guru that I am, but as a figure of fun. I’m just like the girl next door. The one you always had a crush on.
Today I’m talking to you about ‘Hurdles we place in the path of love.’ You’re not Olympic athletes, ladies and gentlemen. 2012 is just a large number to you. The only crucial quality you need in a partner is that they’re breathing. Some ‘experts’ say even that’s not important but this is not that sort of group.
Perhaps your unhappy childhood is holding you back. Get over it! I grew up in the Church of Steeple Bumstead Sisters of Hellfire. My religion states I will be eternally damned unless I get hitched so one of you gorgeous hunks might be in luck. Like you, yes you, with the blue shirt on looking at me with those come to bed eyes. We could be made for each other.
You needn’t look so scared!
I know you’re only worried your performance won’t satisfy someone as sensually adventurous as myself. As I said before, I am a virgin, but I haven’t always been. However, I do need some commitment before I let you plant your courgettes in my window-box. Remember what that girl next door used to say – ‘an engagement ring would suffice if you wanted to get my motor running, but I might not swallow unless a date was set’. So here’s my number: 0890-HOT-TO-TROT – but only if you’re ready to take me up the aisle.
My name’s Mary Christmas, and I’m a virgin.
I haven’t always been. There was a time when I went like a rat up a drainpipe, especially when the lights were out and I was wearing a mask.
But a couple of years ago WHEN I WAS TWENTY I felt I needed something more lasting than the stains on my nightie, so I decided I’d start all over again and save myself for marriage. A toe here, a nipple there – it all adds up. It’s a bit like life insurance, when the policy matures I’ll have lots and lots and lots!
I started going to Internet chatrooms, but I had to stop after the restraining order. I don’t see what’s so wrong with grooming. It’s all right when apes do it, but apparently I’m not allowed to go online and say I’m seventeen.
Then I thought, if I become a big household name on Youtube, with everyone wanting a piece of me, then getting a husband will be a lot easier. And I can stop writing to all those prisoners.
So here I am, simple natural and unadorned, all my own hair and teeth and just a hint of somebody else’s boobs.
And now I’d like to share with you my mantra that I developed at the Chant Your Way To Success seminar. You girls looking for romance may find it very inspirational. Listen carefully:
REMEMBER, A STRANGER IS JUST A HUSBAND IN DISGUISE.
Say it at least ten times a day. When you’re on the bus is good, you can get some surprisingly positive results.
REMEMBER, A STRANGER IS JUST A HUSBAND IN DISGUISE.
Don’t forget, you heard it first from me, Mary Christmas, your personal love trainer.