Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
We got to chatting and after a few G&Ts or four, the upshot was that he dragged me home with him - not unwillingly, especially after he had shoved his tongue down my eager gob. I, being a loving wife, phoned my then husband, the ultra-faggy Bert, and told him I was delayed and I knew, just knew, Bert would be off to the nearest toilets looking for some trade.
I have to say my new bedmate was hung like a horse and he slipped me a couple of satisfactory lengths, one in the puss and one where the sun don’t shine. But that was after I had given him one of my very finest blow jobs and he had practically licked my womb clean.
Reflecting the huge amounts of booze we had demolished, my airborne pickup fell into a drunken stupor, and his snores were enough to wake the sodding dead. So I thought, shag this for a lark, I’m out of here. So having determined, I grabbed my clobber, said I had to go, called myself a cab and back to the airport I went to collect my waiting car and then off home in the early hours.
Which is where I got (even to me, sophisticated bunny that I am) a slight surprise.
In the days before fame and riches smiled on me, I lived in a modest suburban house in Acacia Avenue, so the ten-ton truck parked outside stood out a bit; I thought, “Bert wouldn’t… would he?” But he had. Would you fucking believe it?
I crept into the house, as quiet as a little mouse, and up the stairs I went to the master bedroom (which is what we called the one with full en-suite bathroom so you didn’t have to walk down the hall for a mid-night tinkle. Ah, those dear long-gone days of yesteryear.)
The bedside light was on and I peeped shyly round the door and what a wondrous sight was there revealed to my scarce-believing eyes and waiting Canon Sureshot.
Hubby Bert was trussed up and gagged on our marital bed, whilst a hairy-arsed giant pounded into him from the rear, like a mighty piston working double-overtime. I could tell he was a really high-class trucker as he was still wearing his official Eddie Stobart hat, and he had folded his trousers neatly by the bedside (although I noticed a nasty skidmark on the inside of his discarded frilly knickers).
Now you might think most women would be offended to find their spouse acting thus, for gay sex, gaily up-ended; but I am Edna Sweetlove and am made of sterner stuff. So, fighting back my gag reflex (but only just), I took a few quick snaps for the family photo album and smiled, “Hello, and don’t let me interrupt you for a moment, dears”.
And, so having said, I got out my ever-waiting bullwhip to give them both the lovely thrashing they so fucking richly deserved. And - would you credit it? - we ended up having a kinky little threesome.
Well worth posting on my blog, I feel.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Edna’s Very Special Question of the Day: "Is the BBC staffed by mentally defective female genitalia?"
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
That’s my theory.
My theory that belongs to me.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The world’s going down the shagging plughole. Dumbdowning’s now approaching its foulest nadir. Blair, Bush, Brown, Condi… these are our leaders and future leaders. What are we coming to? Every time I go to the theatre or the opera, I find uncouth yobbos in the audience, whooping and whistling after the performance, sounding sickeningly like retarded Texan soldier boys as they blow another Iraqi bystander to kingdom come, or maybe like blood-crazed Israeli heroes as they bravely send a guided missile into an inconveniently sited Palestinian children's home. Pinter wins the Nobel, Motion is poet laureate, Woody hasn’t made a decent film in over a decade. What would Burgess have said? Does anyone give a flying shit? No. OK, the end is nigh anyway. So-called civilisation’s a festering pile of paedo-droppings.
Where is there left now for a self-respecting glamorous poetess to hang out? The US is, of course, a decadent little hellhole - nothing new there then! India and China, the heirs apparent, are vomit-inducing, excremental (big) pigsties - but at least the nosh is good and reasonably priced. Africa has Aids and it's a bit hot. Australia has Australians. Bollocks to it, all that’s left now is the consolation of a damn good horny frolic sesh down at the old dogging cottage, preceded (and followed) by a few more jeroboams of Glenlivet.
After all, tomorrow is another day...
Friday, May 05, 2006
Well, now that I've enjoyed that, and on a more serious note, Edna is still not satisfied. No. The central evil of British society still remains very much ensconced on his blood-stained throne: yes, our beloved treachery-spinning, warmongering, dirtbox-filthbucket, slimeball-eyesore-on-the-landscape Prime Minister is still there. Hubris must surely get him in the end the way it got Chuck.
O come forth, eldritch demons and Necronomicon warlocks of Cthulhu, come forth, wool of bat and tongue of dog, spew your gobshite on these unrighteous devil's spittles and get Bush too while you're at it. This is Edna's will. Bring down elephantine brown elevens' on their ignoble heads. PULL THE STRING! PULL THE STRING!
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
In related news, Edna proffers yet another of her infamously juicy red-hot tips: Blair has privately scotched rumours that David Beckham’s long-overdue knighthood “for services rendered to naff-voiced little turds” is imminent. David will receive his richly deserved (and not at all underhand, populist or downdumbed) honour in due course - the year before the very next general election, in fact.
While I’m on, I’d better send out a big “Happy Birthday!” and pay tribute to one of the great figures of the Twentieth (or any) Century - a great hero who would (and should) have turned a sprightly 117 just yesterday: schöne Adolf, unser Führer. He gets such bad press in some quarters sometimes (but after all what can you expect from a load of worthless hacks?). And while on the birthday jaunt, our very own beloved old Royal bint turned 80 today, still live and kicking - there really is no justice in the world, but she'll hang on for ever to stop Big Ears and Horseface getting the throne.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
As a lawyer brought up to admire American democratic values, I feel compelled to say that Guantánamo Bay is a stain on American justice. Only the present administration of the United States tries to defend the utterly indefensible.
Unfortunately, our prime minister is not prepared to go further than to say that Guantánamo Bay is an understandable anomaly. In its feebleness this response to a flagrant breach of the rule of law, reminiscent of the worst actions of totalitarian states, is shaming for our country.
My country wrong or wrong.