Monthly Archives: December 2011
Welcome back to Mary Christmas’Christmas Mary message at Christmas, with me, Mary Christmas. You’ll notice I’m more cheerfully attired. Well I couldn’t do the mourning for long. Never liked Uncle Roy anyway, miserable bastard.
So, 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 Becky, I am referring to you. Most men said, when encountering Becky for the first time: ‘If I’d known you were a virgin I’d have taken more time.’ To which Becky would reply: ‘If I’d known you had more time, I’d have taken my tights off…’
Anyway, I digress. To make yourslef more alluring, ladies, you have to make the right noises. I’m not talking the ‘oohhs’ and the ‘aahhs’ here. I am talking wild animal noises. Literally. 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 were bits of bread and the odd peanut. Once I chased Boris Johnson, trilling ‘COO COOOO!!!!’ 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 Sainsburys, confine yourself to a hushed ‘croo – croo’. 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, fertilise those eggs, crack that shell and have a spurty white Christmas. Ding dong, merrily on high, ding dong!
Festive greetings from Get Laid! My name is Mary Christmas. Would you like to take a wild stab at guessing which special day I was born on….?
The answer’s Good Friday. Ironic really considering my life has been a never-ending dirge of pain and misery. Joking! The Steeple Bumstead Sisters of Hellfire take their fun very seriously.
Now, sorry to put a downer on your festive cheer, but I’ve just been at a funeral. Bit embarrassing because I was late. Although not as late as my Uncle Roy, whose funeral it was. I don’t know if any of you have ever been on a deathbed, but it’s not as much fun as it sounds. My uncle died from a rare condition which combined a strange muscular twitch with severe Tourettes Syndrome. Shocking it was. In his last moments, he grabbed my arse and shouted “Bollock off, spaniel tits!” Not something I will pass on to my children. Not because I don’t think it’s a nice story, but because I don’t have any children. Although tonight could be my lucky night. Or even yours, handsome.
A little lady of my acquaintance saw one of my previous philosophies on You Tube and said ‘I don’t get it. Are you supposed to be funny?’ The answer, Becky, is No. My commitment to Get Laid is unstoppable at all times.
I know this time of year can be difficult for single ladies but don’t feel despondent – Mary Christmas is here to set all of you on the path to lasting fulfillment – the non battery reliant sort!
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 these 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 garlics placed in every orifice.
Now you’re all warmed up and panting for more, you’re ready to learn the smooth talk, so get yourself a nice glass of absinthe and hurry back for the next installment.