





Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum
Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
As he sighed for the love of a la-dy.
Fans of the ‘strict governess’ style of femdom might be interested in skipping to exactly 49 minutes into this 1970s British movie (NB, Russian site if you worry about such things), to reach the section which is about Theresa Berkley, of whipping horse fame. The movie is mostly in that 1970s British sex comedy style (oo-err, Missus, gwarn show us yer knockers!) but this bit is, I think, done quite well as it features the slow scolding build-up and anticipation (a theme I tried to convey in one of my few serious pieces: Waiting). Weirdly enough, although most of the film is knockabout farce, towards the end it takes on the tone of a public information film and features the then living, famous and very serious dominatrix, Monique van Cleef, in a short bit starting at 1:15.45. The 1970s were odd. But then, so are we, aren’t we? Extra trivia: the narrator is Charles Gray, narrator of Rocky Horror (where was his neck?) as well as being the best Blofeld, and Mrs Berkley is Carmen Silvera, who later dominated René in Allo Allo.
Ernest Hemingway said that and despite his being rather reprehensibly ‘a man’s man’, I think he may have been right.
Yes, it’s more accounts from the dark days of World War M.
And from the days before the darkest days, some glimmers of illumination into how it all started (apart from the more fundamental cause of men just being too annoying for too long, obviously). World War M: Origins.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that. Which just goes to show that even the smartest guys can be really, really dumb when it comes to the unfairer sex, but there you go.
And here we go. Not an Abraham Lincoln-themed day, startlingly enough.
More from the girls who risked all, back in dubya-dubya-em. And the boys too – who did lose it all, those that had any in the first place. Remember: they also serve, who only kneel and darn socks.
And more from the build-up to war: World War M: Origins. Coming soon to a cinema nowhere near you.
Your Honour, I appear for the hospital in this unfortunate matter. And let me say at the very start that the hospital takes full responsibility for its actions and deeply regrets the error that led to Mr Harcourt’s loss. We have offered a full and generous compensation settlement but that has regrettably been declined to date. We have great sympathy with Mr Harcourt, but we respectfully submit that the quantum of damages he is claiming is absurd and excessive.
We will be presenting extensive evidence in that regard, if it please the Court. To begin with, Mr Harcourt’s loss was, shall we say… less than might have been expected, for an average adult male. Considerably less. With apologies for any discomfort it might unavoidably cause the Claimant, we will present pictures of the item in question, alongside illustrations of healthier, more robust and, well, larger male members for comparison. We will also hear from several eminent sexologists who will dispel myths about size not being important and comment on the degree of sexual stimulation – if any – likely to afforded to any females in the unlucky and unlikely position of having sexual intercourse with Mr Harcourt.
I say unfortunate and unlikely because it is central to our case that Mr Harcourt has not for many years had any kind of sexual relationship – at least with another person – and would not have been likely to, even had the unfortunate mishap not occurred. We will hear from one witness who many years ago found herself in bed with the Claimant and she will describe what occurred, which we say in no way constituted ‘sexual intercourse’ as such. We have then lined up a succession of female witnesses of various ages and backgrounds, each of whom has had a chance to meet Mr Harcourt and will testify under oath as to his attractiveness: his physical appearance, personality, sexual chemistry – or lack thereof – and so on. The Court will hear how – without exception – each considers him to be an entirely unattractive mate, so Mr Harcourt’s penis would not have any value to him in that regard, even had it not been sent to an incinerator as hospital waste.
Of course, none of this will be necessary were the Claimant to accept our generous settlement offer, which still stand. I am looking at my learned friend, counsel for the Claimant…?
It seems we are to proceed. So having dealt – I hope the Court will agree, comprehensively – with the utter implausibility of Mr Harcourt’s penis ever encountering another human being, we will turn to the final matter in question: its value to him as a masturbation aid.
I am conscious that this must be very disagreeable for Mr Harcourt and I can only regret the necessity that finds us here. I am aware this case has attracted considerable media interest and even though I am opposing Mr Harcourt’s side in this case, I can only plead with media organisations to act responsibly and if they feel they have to report this matter, to do so without undue sensationalism. It would be quite unnecessary, for instance, were Mr Harcourt have to suffer headlines such as How Much for a Wank? or Todgerless Tosser seeks Relief, while even a more understanding and factual headline such as Masturbation Compensation for Castration could easily cause him distress. It is so, so easy to mock – indeed, my team and I have thought up many more such headlines and we would be happy to brief any journalists keen to avoid humiliating Mr Harcourt’s feelings in any number of ways.
And of course much of the four days we have scheduled for cross-examination of Mr Harcourt himself will be taken up with a rigorous – although I hope always sensitive and respectful – exploration of his former masturbatory habits. I will lead that cross-examination, although I am grateful to be assisted by my juniors Ms Elliott and Ms Lyons, in that regard. We will regrettably be requiring Mr Harcourt to take us through several of the masturbatory magazines that were found in his apartment, as well as some of the material disclosed from his computer, and he will be explaining – for the benefit of those of us not sharing his rather unusual tastes – just why these images of items of clothing, unpleasant activities and even – somewhat ironically, it might be said – images of ladies dressed in rubber simulacra of nurses’ uniform, wielding implements of castration – sexually excite him and what he would do, while looking at them. It is important, we feel, to give Mr Harcourt an opportunity to explain what it is he has actually lost by being denied any further opportunity to rub one out, so to speak, while watching videos of naked men with dildoes up their rectums and dirty socks in their mouths being peed upon. He will be in the witness box, on oath, describing his feelings on watching one such video, which we will play simultaneously, and many other items of pornography in his possession. Many, many others.
Unless he accepts the generous settlement my clients proposed. As I said. A choice which remains his and his alone, my clients having gone as far in that respect as they can.
War. They say war changes nothing. But sometimes if nothing changes, war is the only way. These girls didn’t seek the war they fought in but it found them. Then they fought and some of them died. Then they won and some of them came back. Did they come back as heroines? They came back. Plenty didn’t. Those who made it said the war changed them – for good, for bad, who knows? It changed a lot of guys too, mostly for the better. Sure: war changes nothing. But war changes everything, too.
Etc. That stuff’s surprisingly easy to write.
World War M, anyway. When the war between the sexes went hot.
And introducing a new series. World War M: Origins.