Burlesque Honey

Irony du Jour

admin — Wed, 26 May 2010 22:38:07 +0000

Just did some housekeeping including deleting numerous spam attempts from assorted purveyors of Rolex watches, penile extension merchants and one Polo shirt Wholesaler. He had the following to add as a comment to a previous blog entry that began with the line ‘Spring time for Hitler, winter for Poland and France’ The comment read ‘I enjoy reading the report, too. It′s easy to understand that a journey like this is the biggest event in ones life’ I was tempted to approve it although it would open the floodgates to most of China’s exporters.

Et encore – more animal cruelty

admin — Wed, 26 May 2010 15:31:46 +0000

Spotted a new past time, knitting for your pets…. The possibilities of humiliating your pooch appear limitless. You can fashion Darling little dragon outfits or indeed whip up a charming little hat like this one. Strangely enough, I remember precisely the same expression when looking at family albums; it is the look of a Christmas present survivor….

Animal Cruelty du Jour – Part Deux

admin — Wed, 26 May 2010 15:13:33 +0000

Following the discovery of a blog, titled Diary of a Jet setting Cat, another new online diary entry has been discovered in cyberspace.

Diary of Le Woof du Jour (or Rovers Return)

Day mmmh oof forgot. Just heard jingle of lead – oh goody – walkies! Managed to get close and sniff toosh of La Belle – cocker spaniel from number 12. Ooooh and found great treasure, big box of KFC chicken bones. Can this day get any better? Yessss – cat came home multi coloured looking like parrot. Wait, jingling of my collar again. Brilliant! Nother walkie! New route full of interesting smells. Stop outside strange smelling place can’t quite make out name S—A—L—O—N Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Walk home, avoiding eye contact, enter home – cat lying on chaise licking claws sniggering when sees my latest styling. Got pom poms on my legs. Mental note – remember large puddle near park…

Animal cruelty du Jour

admin — Wed, 26 May 2010 15:01:06 +0000

Apparently, the latest craze du jour in New York (well, mes petit pois where else indeed???) is to dye your cat in some fetching multi colour design. Forget Joseph and the amazing Technicolor dream coat – now the latest must have accessory is to colour match Le Chat to go with your post modern ironic Lichtenstein pop art paintings. Gosh the possibilities and design variations are limitless.

Incidentally this blog entry has just been discovered

Day 711 My tormentor took me to some strange location full of Hispanic little men in shiny too tight trousers, open shirts and medallions around their chests. Jesus, the proud Puerto Rican keeper of this new torture chamber kept exclaiming ‘Mi hijas what a darrrrrrling little pussssy caat’ while applying some strange toxic lotions on my fur. My captor smiled while watching my latest humiliation. One day when the glorious feline revolution will take place and all cats can walk freely without pink glitter collars I shall repay these creatures for all of those heinous attacks. I discovered some new powers just the other day when my captor brought in a new ally; he fled muttering something about ‘allergy’. I must find out how to harness this new weapon….

Well you can’t take it with you

admin — Fri, 14 May 2010 16:28:42 +0000

Seems to be the consensus of many gents that contributed to an industry forum discussing how they justify the expense of their patronage of floozies. Quite right and the dividends are manifold! Well, how many research studies does it need to show that Honey is good for you…? You could spend money of many things that harm your health like alcohol, cigarettes, drugs or far worse purchase an expensive concert ticket to see Whitney Houston live! The latter will leave you with such a trauma that only counselling and possible lengthy therapy can overcome. Surely her audio assault must be illegal under the Geneva Conventions that expressly rule out torture? Saw a TV documentary many months ago that showed a cruel practise of Hong Kong citizens who had the vocal cords of their dogs removed so they won’t bark or cause a nuisance. However, in the case of La Houston it would be the kindest thing to do, especially for the poor audience!

Spring time for moi and the industry, winter for

admin — Fri, 14 May 2010 12:43:16 +0000

Harman and Smith… Chatted to some lovely gorgeous young male ‘colleagues’ yesterday evening. They seemed to share the quiet optimism of a return to better times for the industry. It seems ‘paid love’ tends to flourish under any regime with a strong bias towards traditional family values. Rather than pesky socialists who want to drag the subject of prostitution under the glaring bright spot and rescue us if necessary against our will, Tories tend to be reassuringly ambiguous. Some of the best clients are those with a very ‘clean’ moralistic image, their debauchery is only surpassed by the inclination to pay for it. Hence many young gay escorts are joyfully anticipating a fresh influx of Tory MPs. After all there is only so long Boy George can carry the gay escort market on his own….

Que sera, sera…

admin — Thu, 13 May 2010 11:51:48 +0000

Well, in the wake of a new dawn era government, the most pertinent question would be what will the future hold for a brazen hussy in a non brown society? Thinking back to the distant memory of the last Conservative government, the one thing that sticks out is that the Tories usually put the ‘sin’ back into their staunch family values. Along with conservative morals, one thing seemed as sure as the religious qualification for the papacy, that under the Conservative party, the sleaze-o-metre tends to rise considerably. The influx of new ‘back benchers’ will probably mean that London parks near Westminster will be full of fresh, happily married Conservative MPs accidentally stumbling into joyful nocturnal ‘naturists’ frolicking in the moonlight. Perhaps the current economic crisis can be tackled with paraphrasing slogans by former Tory legends, such as Norma ‘dont sit on your arse, sell it’ Tebbit? I predict boom times for the happily amoral! Wonder who of us will be the first to have an outcall to Westminster?

Dearest diary

admin — Thu, 13 May 2010 11:30:17 +0000

So sorry I shamefully neglected you all these weeks. What can I say? Well, life got in the way. Apart from meeting lovely gents I got caught up with a number of design projects in which I immersed myself fully. But I am still around and still delightfully amoral with a laughter just the right side of dirty…

Morning Glory

admin — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 13:13:53 +0000

Alright technically mid morning to early lunch – had an extra lie in. Call from a guy who sounds a little constipated but I am not quite fully awake to differentiate finer acoustic details. He tells me that he has seen and liked my profile for which I thank him graciously. He then tells me that he woke up horny – for a moment I held my breath lest this would lead him to commence a Blues number. No he continues talking and asked my availability. I quote him my earliest appointment time some 4 hours in the future based on a careful algorithm that considers overall state of moi, grogginess, extra grooming, travel and generally switching from auto pilot. He tells me having seen my site I was worth waiting for. I asked if he wanted to make the booking but instead he asks if I mind seeing big guys. I reply in the affirmative and reassure him that since I am no skinny minny myself I don’t have any issues with weight. But he already continues to tell me that ’Big girls like big guys and that he tends to get on with them’ I presume he means big girls but my mind is not completely in focus. His breathing is a little laboured. I am thinking poor guy and am contemplating to recommend extra fibre in his diet. He then asked if I minded 10 inches. I then realise he is not constipated at all. I finish the call abruptly as I hate those kinds of conversations and because my body demands ney screams for a shot of caffeine. Of course I mind ten inches! What is wrong with some people? Why can’t they be sensible and at least quote in centimetres!

Asking for directions – part deux

admin — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 12:16:30 +0000

It seems the inability to ask for directions might be in particular an affliction of the Anglo-Saxon Homo erectus… A French study begs to differ and rebuts the findings of an English study that claims the G-Spot does not exist. Apparently, French men do know where to look – well, if one studies the typical French movie the best way to search for this button is by plonking the woman on the kitchen table and root around, usually after a heated argument, furiously smoking a cigarette and waving ones hands around and many typical Gallic shrugs. Whatever the ritual involved finding the blasted spot, I am surprised to hear that 60% of French women have it and their English sisters apparently not. At the risk of sounding offensive (well, it is my blog so sue me lol) given on how many neurotic French women I have encountered – either I only met with those falling into the 40% group or they have not had their button pressed.

In my professional capacity as a floozy, I am not keen on the kind of dogged insistence of some guys who see it as a personal mission to locate and push that button. They are often the kind of person that fails to see the bigger picture of moi, a living breathing woman with a personality. Instead, they focus on my inner bits with some mental alternative to the Ford Escort manual and prod around where the plumbing ought to be. Luckily, I rarely encounter such ‘intrepid’ explorers as most gents realise that achieving bliss is not just pure mechanics but a combination of physical and mental stimulation as a holistic approach. However, hobbyist forums are full of the kind of men that swap notes that could easily read out of context appear to be motor repair tips. Ironically, their quest to find the Holy Grail of Punting has nothing to do with the actual lady’s feelings on the matter and is all about the equivalent of erecting an explorer’s flag up there… The type of people who post in-depth instructions of how to turn on the ‘waterworks’ i.e. to get the women squirting remind me off podgy Gary Larson ‘Far Side’ cartoon boys with milk bottle thick glasses that mount big bugs as specimen…

Anyway, all you lovely gents I can stop the agony over trying to find my G Spot – it is really easy to locate and very easy to reach – it nestles seductively inside my silk purse….