Sunday, 20 November 2011

Blanche in Dubai

It’s a well-known fact that I’m international, being the jet setter that I am. I’m always living it up in such fancy destinations like T’Chad, Jeddah and the Falklands so it was no surprise that I found myself in Dubai for two long glorious weeks of sun, sea, sand and excitement clubbing, vomiting, recovering and more partying.

Two fabulous friends put me up; Dave and Teddy, you may recognize Dave, he was on the front cover of The Sun when he was put on the sex offenders list for inappropriately molesting a puppet when he visited Fraggle Rock. Teddy on the over hand has stared in such TV programs as Crimewatch, Real Police Chases, Undercover Criminals and When Celebrity Boobs Go Bust; The Truth Behind Implants. Both lovely guys, they met in rehab when they were sectioned for a compulsion for talking about shitting, they soon got released when I made the nurses realize it’s just what cabin crew talk about, that and sex, food and sleeping. I often find it difficult to being myself down to my colleagues’ intellectual level, sometimes I just crave for a real conversation about the latest Sue Townsend novel, and instead I find myself discussing the latest edition to

Fortunately Teddy let me share his room; it’s no doubt a decision he regretted after I tuned his bedside table into what looked familiar like a cosmetics counter, he politely didn’t say anything even though he no longer had a place to store his hemorrhoid cream. On the first night of my Arabian adventure I was taken to a little bar called Zinc, it was a crew night and full of puffs. It was in there, just as the DJ played Theme from S’Express that I thought I could easily move here.

It was in fact clearly a gay bar, well the gay area was to the left of the bar full of Emirates crew, you could tell by the smell of Gin & Tonic mixed with regret that this wasn’t the straight side.  It was there a gorgeous little geek in a Dennis the Menace t-shirt caught my eye. I was giving him all sorts of sexy looks, albeit ones that looked like I was on death row and my name had just been called out, and he seemed to be looking back, that was until I noticed his fella was stood behind me at the bar.  It’s such a shame he died on the way home, apparently someone cut the brakes on his camel.

The second night I was taken to a ‘gay’ bar, they do exist over in Dubai; they just call them by different names such as The Sodomizers Den Of Inequity. I did have a lovely time there, I was even chatted up by a very handsome man, I was flattered, it was just when he was feeling my bum I heard Teddy shout ‘Mike, he’s after your pockets.’ It suddenly dawned on me I was as hopeless with men in Dubai as I am in Manchester. They obviously don’t appreciate a witty Northerner with a little more meat on his bones that what is clinically healthy.

Quite possibly the best discovery I made whilst over in the U.A.E is that KFC deliver there.  Perfect as a hangover cure and it just so happened I had a hangover every day.  Due to his hazeiness I only actually made it to the beach once in my two weeks of being there, returning back to the UK with less of a suntan than a Chilean miner. It was on this beach that I was introduced to a summer trend that will no doubt be on the catwalks of Paris and Milan come this spring; a burka accompanied by a baseball cap.

Whilst I was here I met up with a very good friend for lunch, Lady Di, not of Wales but of Romford. We had some lovely meals down on the promenade, that was until I realized she was trying to sell me as a slave so she could raise some funds to have a plunge pool fitted on her balcony, I actually think I was more offended that she had no offers. They obviously took one look at me and knew I couldn’t lift a Yellow Pages with a rope and pulley, never mind carrying a sheet of metal to the top of the Burj.

Unfortunately my time ran out over in Dubai and despite my pleading Teddy never got a chance to take me up the Khalifa. I’m hoping that on my return to the U.A.E I might have more look with someone else, maybe a new colleague…….

Monday, 10 October 2011

I've Never Been In The Army But The Armies Been In Me

What I love most about my wonderful life is knowing that the possibilities of me finding myself in a ridiculous location in any part of the world are a distinct possibility. Just this morning I’ve woke to my find myself in the Falkland Islands with a bitch of a hangover and slightly bizarre flash backs from the night before.
I have to say that I’ve been pleasantly surprised whilst down here; any homophobic comments I thought I’d get from the butch troops simply don’t exist. In fact it seems the troops love a Queen to attend they’re room parties, keeping me suitably lubricated whilst in attendance.
Last night in particular was one of the funniest nights I’ve had in along time. After picking up a phone and shouting code word ‘Timmy,' myself and the rest of the crew were whisked off to an old aircraft hanger for a piss up. It was here I fell in love with a 23 year old squadie built like a brick shit house but with the soft charming features of the boy next door. Let us call him Smithy, as that’s his name.
After getting suitably shit faced on a few bottles of wine I found myself back in Smithy’s room having a party with ten other squadies. You can’t buy wine by the glass here, a fact that horrified me as I’m sure you’ll agree, I don’t like to participate in binge drinking, well not without class As.
Unfortunately Smithy was to disappear for a few hours; perhaps it was the sight of a desperate queen salivating whilst poking his washboard stomach that sent him scarpering. Either way I was left in the company of a man who for some unknown reason took pleasure in telling the room he had the smallest cock in the world. And after he decided to get it out and give us all a flash, I have to say, yes, it quite possibly could have been.
This was then followed by a man who confessed to having the biggest cock in the world, and yes you guessed it, he decided to whip it out and show me, and I have to confess I have seen bigger, although I didn’t want to rain on his parade so I congratulated him just before passing out.

I did come back round shortly after I heard Smithy’s voice inviting me out for a cigarette. I quickly jumped to my feet and followed him out the building. After hopelessly flirting with this butch heterosexual bloke he humored me by showing me a picture of his penis on his phone. Realizing that was the best offer I was going to get that evening, I swaggered off back to my room with a smile on my face and an even more pissed colleague who had decided that wearing her bra on the outside of her top was the latest fashion trend somewhere in-between her first sambucca and last slippery nipple.
As you can imagine I feel suitably disgraced after last night and feel the need to scrub my self clean in the communal showers, now, where did I put that soap…..
Part Two
Well despite me grabbing my soap at the end of my last post and leaving a trial of lubricant to the men’s showers not one squaddie followed me in. I did wait a couple of hours, and I would have stayed longer but I got soap in my downstairs eye and had to leave immediately. I’m beginning to think the tube of Sudocrem I bought on the way out was a waste of money.
Anyway, finishing with the Falklands for the week I boarded our coach to the airport to fly our delicious troops back to Ascension Island. Walking through the terminal building, I use the word terminal loosely, I was greeted by our ground agent who saw fit to tell me I made an arse out of myself the night before, he said I was more entertaining than offensive but he felt very sorry for the Penguin. I have no idea what he meant but I did wonder what the funny taste in my mouth was.
I do remember walking into the toilets and being shocked, yet slightly delighted at three army boys stood around in a circle with the pants around their ankles. They were playing helicopters with their dicks together. I tell you; cocks are like buses, nothing for months then three cum at once.
Landing into Ascension Island on Saturday afternoon I had just enough time to lever myself into my tightest hot-pants before hitting the local club, Two Boats. Now someone should have phoned ahead and warned them to put their ridiculous low prices up to prevent self-inflicted alcohol poisoning, sadly no one did. As a result I downed several shots of Slippery Nipple and woke up on the beach rimming a giant turtle. I can only assume that after 14 Pimms and lemonade that I thought it was the for mentioned Smithy.
Unfortunately I do have to dash, I’m off to the American Air Force base this evening for drinks in their bar so I might pop in a Glade Plug-In just incase.  I am also eagerly waiting the arriving of the new Air Italy crew. I’ve always wanted to bag myself a stallion. Now, where did I put the veet…….
Confessions Of An Army Queen Part 3
A lovely time was had by all when drinking at the American Air Force base on the island known as Ascension, best known amongst fellow crew members as Fragle Rock. After sampling the house cocktail, Mudslide, one lost all inhibitions, well there really is no other excuse as to why I would put my lips on a female’s and kiss passionately. One feels disgusting and has been in the shower every day since scrubbing myself with bleach and a Brillo pad.
As you all know by now I like to make an entrance, well in this case it was more of a return, a return to my accommodation that is, in the back of a police car. Apparently it’s against the law to try and squeeze 8 people in a Ford Ka for a lift home. The police lady was very nice, after a little rendition of ‘I am what I am,’ I think she thought I had bigger issues than simply squeezing into an over filled car and she promptly gave me a lift home. She even offered to come and get me again if I was stranded, probably something to do with the fact I’d almost drank a full bottle of Jack Daniels at this time and had just started to lick the windows. My request to borrow her truncheon went completely over her head.
After a little eight-hour flight back to the Falklands, encountering the most horrendous turbulence I’ve ever had; I almost spilt my Jack Daniels, I went straight out to meet my public. It was on this night out that I thought it was hilarious to call a contractor built like a brick shit house and could quite honestly kill me with his little thumb my daddy bitch. Surprisingly he didn’t seem to mind, I think they all thought I was the evenings’ entertainment. To be fair, the state I was in, I probably was.
I do remember a remark from a female who wasn’t to impressed with my comments, I do however remember her being extremely ugly and having no personality. I’m also 100% sure when she turned round I could see the word PRIMARK on her top label which, don’t get me wrong it a was lovely top, if not just two sizes too small.
Now despite my many attempts to bag myself a squaddie I’m still without one, there are actually no gays within 8000km, I know this for a fact as my Grindr told me so.  Well no out gay guys anyway, I’m sure some of them could be turned after a drink or six.  I’ve certainly been shown a few choppers whilst drinking in the helicopter pilot’s bar. One even made my eyes water. It was pierced. Now where did I put that rohypnol……..

Part 4.
As you all know I like a drink but I am in fact now in fear that my liver is going to give up any minute. This is of course due to the price of the vodka down here in the Falklands. With vodkas at 22p in the Nafi bar you can get pissed on two pound. Although, I think that 22p is taking the piss a little bit, two weeks ago it was only 19p. I blame New Labour.
Now I truly believed that there would be no way of me outdoing myself in the humiliation stakes, especially after that unfortunate experience with the sea urchin; those pricks were stuck in my cheeks for days, however it turned out I was wrong. My friends will tell you I never drink vodka, it does something funny to me that sends me more psychopathic than a Z list celebrity on a reality tv show, mentioning no names, Vanessa Feltz.
Now I’m not sure if it was all the testosterone in the air from the suqadies that made me go a little loopy, or the fact that despite me waiting patiently in the showers for six hours for an unsuspecting squaddie to turn up I’d left disappointed and more shriveled up than Geri Halliwell’s showbiz career. So, I decided to take things into my own hands, literally.
Downing half a bottle of Malibu I thought the appropriate course of action was to pull my senior’s pants down before rubbing his cock.  I wouldn’t call this a particular satisfying sexual experience, would you? This took place just shortly before I had vodka spat in my face and just after I’d vomited from smoking too many fags. The conclusion meant I was still moist but not perhaps in the way I would have liked. It also left me with the niggling feeling that my p46 could be shoved under my cell door at any moment.
Fortunately this happened two days ago and I’m still without my p46, actually, I have just received my roster telling me that I will be down here in the Falklands for some time to come. Maybe I’m in line for a promotion? Hopefully they’ll be lots of activities, such as the game soggy biscuit (please google for the rules).
I would like to say that I learnt from my intoxicated experience, however this morning I woke up with vomit in my sink and a very scared looking penguin in my room, again.

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

Another Date, Another Dilemma

Scared into my memory is the mishap of burning my flaps with Veet the last time I went on a date. The amount of body grooming to feel good about myself before going on a date starts with 7 days preparation. With this in mind it was with great trepidation that I decided to put my down my Take A Break, even though I was in the middle of a fascinating article about a lady who breast feeds her chickens, turn off Jeremy Kyle and get back into the dating game.

First on my hit list was a lad I met at Manchester Pride, a little younger than I normally go for, plus he was wearing earrings, not the Pat Butcher type but the I’m going to twat you round the head with a baseball bat type and steel your wallet Elizabeth Duke style earring. Placing my prejudgment of said earrings aside, although I’m sure a few of you would have been turned on at such an image, we went on a date. This was followed by drinksnsnax round at my house the following Saturday. All had a lovely time, I say ALL as my friend Leona gatecrashed, she had heard about the earrings and was worried about a similar description on the previous evening’s episode of Crime Watch when the delicious Rav had described a crime where a pensioner had been battered to death by a rubber penis shaped douche.

Just when I thought the date was going swimmingly said boy fell asleep and refused to wake up before being dragged upstairs and thrown onto a mattress to sleep of his Southern Comfort induced coma. Myself and Leona carried on having a lovely time, at one point we used said boy as a coffee table balancing our Veuve on him as we polished off our Beyoncé routine. Unfortunately Leona can never seem to get the last twirl right, I put this down to her epilepsy.

Despite the coma I did have a lovely evening, unfortunately the boy didn’t think the same and we weren’t to see each other again. I can only assume he wasn’t impressed by my evenings choice of snax or he felt uncomfortable in my Laura Ashley decorated home as I can assure you I kept the conversation stimulating at all times. But then again I don’t suppose everyone feels as strongly about euthanasia as I do. It couldn’t possibly have been me whispering into his ear ‘there’s no time to be a lady, just drop your fucking knickers,’ for his lack of communication. Not a chat up line I prefer to use but the first one that came into my mind after being pep talked by my friend Germaine earlier that day. I should have known not to listen to her, after all she does have a criminal record for indecent exposure – she had to be dragged down from sitting on top of the Blackpool tower in the great storm of ’98.

Deciding not to dwell on the rejection from my search for a suitor I picked myself up and decided to organize a date that very same day to find my next victim via the help of Again I opted for a younger man, not what I normally go for but time was running out and I didn’t fancy a night in watching reruns of Cilla Black’s Surprise Surprise, I’m emotionally unstable at the best of times and that program has the tendency to force me into a diabetic coma after comfort eating my way through three tubs of double choc Ben & Jerrys – now that is a threesome I like to have several times a week, it’s cheap yet classy and doesn’t stain the sheets.

Discretion is my middle name so let’s call my date Chris, because that’s his name. Describing himself as a down to earth 21 year old who’s friendly and fun I thought I’d be in for a lovely evening as I sipped my Bacardi Breezer awaiting his arrival. 

Just then a figure walked through the door that had some resemblance to a picture I had been shown earlier that day, I now assumed the picture was taken from some distance and through a dirty lens.  As the figure went straight to the bar I turned and smiled, there was suddenly an awkward moment where I thought do I stay and see this through or do I fake a seizure and run for my life. Being a good Christian I decided to stay.

As I studied his receding hair line and thinking to myself if he’s 21 I’m Mother Teresa I was greeted by his words (as he put a Primark bag on the table, imagine the horror) 'I thought who's that fucking prick looking at, then I realized it was you, you look fuck all like your profile pic, your much better in the flesh, I've just been to Primark to buy a few ties, I'm going to a funeral tomorrow.' It was in that very moment I knew the seizure would have been the better option.

Downing my Bacardi I ran to the bar to grab a triple vodka in the hope of numbing my ears from his rambling of his reminiscing of how his uncle had been in a car crash and ended up a ‘retard.’ This was shortly followed by how he was ‘hated at work but don’t give a fuck as I’d take them all on.’ He did seem very impressed by his job as a call center agent for a well-known insurance company; no doubt it is a very good vocation for such an ameba.

As I returned from the toilet I made an excuse of how I had just been called to work and would have to leave in the next few minutes to go and work a flight to Greece, I told him I wouldn’t just leave him to finish his pint on his own – I’m ever the gentleman, even in adversity. The following was the longest 15 minutes of my life as he slowly dripped his full pint into his mouth, even with subtle hints such as gazing into space, looking at my watch and finally pulling out my car keys didn’t hurry him along one little bit.

Arriving home I felt ever so cheap, I felt the urge to shower with bleach and brillo pad, not before I had deleted my profile on the dating site and blocking any others from being assessable. Just as I sat down and recovered with a Gin and Tonic, without the tonic, my phone bleeped – “THANK YOU FOR A LOVELY EVENING, LET’S DO IT AGAIN SOMETIME”

I give up. 

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Dear Blanche.... Part 3

Dear Blanche...

I wanked so hard I ripped my foreskin.
Its sooo painful, but I am too embarrassed to go to doctor as this happened over gay porn. My girlfriend is repulsed as my willy now looks hideous and deformed. This adds to the smallness which i am already very selfconscience about. Please help me with this issue. i'm begging you!! Matt

Well Matt from 98 Thornbury Ave, Whitefield, Greater Manchester, your secret is safe with me. However, please don’t beg, I already have people camping out at my front door begging for a glimpse of my greatness, I don’t need any more. It touches me that I can offer some guidance to a pathetic human being like you. Well that and the fact I think it’s about time I replaced that Denise Roberts bitch on This Morning, her softly, softly approach gets on my perfectly formed man tits.

I’d like to offer you some words of comfort regarding the size of your penis, like it’s not the size that matters it’s how you use it, however I’d be lying. I’d be very surprised if your girlfriend wasn’t cheating on you with Pedro from the local Italian or at the very least a mechanical device.

You really shouldn’t put off going to the doctors; you really need to get it sorted before you get a nasty infection. I would recommend a trip to the Embarrassing Bodies clinic; Dr Christian is very empathetic, he was ever so courteous when I went to see him after I got a marigold stuck up my anus. You see I was just up my stepladders cleaning my Victorian style sash window when I lost balance and fell awkwardly onto my banister where I had placed my marigold to dry off. He would treat you very professionally, plus we could all do with a good laugh at the size of you manhood, or lack of.

Love always, Mikie.

P.S I’d be very grateful if you could tell me which porn site you were exciting yourself to, for research purposes.


Dear Blanche...

I need your help asap!
I've got a hot date tonite wiv a guy i met on the net. Being so excited and nervous while texting one of my girlfriends asking what i should wear i.e Bridget Jones spandex knickers to hold in my flab and disguise my camel toe under carridge or my one pair of agent provocteur sexy thongs in case i get lucky! And iv gone and sent him the txt by mistake!! Help!
Marjorie Xx

Marjorie, Firstly may I suggest a surgeon to sort out your undercarriage? There are many who offer amazing deals on designer vaginas, and although I haven’t been near one myself I’m assured from my heterosexual brothers that the hermaphrodite look still isn’t widely accepted, if at all. It’s a good job you have legs as I’m sure you’d otherwise leave a slugs trial. One can only hope you don’t have a coil fitted; I fear you may pick up some HD channels.

There may be an underlying problem here as you are obviously desperate enough to meet a man from the internet, maybe you suffer from low self-esteem or you could just be vomit inducingly ugly as a result of being the love child of Sooty and Pepa Pig. Either way a pair of Agent Provocateur thongs aren’t going to solve your problem, and guessing by the size of your backside one would suspect they’d act like cheese wire next to your tree trunks.

Now I shouldn’t really say this, I know I am the last resort before calling Jeremy Kyle but maybe you should give him a go. His trusty sidekick Graham could sort out your self-esteem issues whilst you sort out your dating problems by pretending to be on an episode of Blind Date. With a bit of luck there might be a young lad on there from the same council estate that you’ve obviously crawled out from. Do people from council estates have computers? Must research that, or phone the police.

One final thing Marjorie, remember to be safe whilst out on blind dates. Men you meet online aren’t often who they say they are. Keeping this in mind you must tell a family member or friend where you’re going and what time you can be expected back, just incase they turn out to be a mass murderer… On second thoughts, keep it to yourself.

Love Always, Mikie


Dear Blanche...

I'm afraid my boyfriend is having sex with my mum. It's not that I'm jealous, but I know she's got an STD and now I dont feel like having jiggy jiggy any more. What can I do Mikie ? Oh and by the way, my nan thinks your'e gorgeous xxx Sophie

Firstly Sophie please thank your nan for having such stupendous taste. She’s obviously a lady with class. Secondly have you thought of having botox? It’s clear to me that if your fella would rather wave his wand in your mother’s Albert Hall than touch you with a shitty stick that you probably are in need of some work.

I’ve seen this problem many times, you probably thought that appearing as an extra in Fraggle Rock would make you more appealing to your boyfriend as you took the first steps on the ladder to becoming a Z-list celebrity. Unfortunately I can’t help but think your time would have been better spent on Extreme Makeover, I told Vanessa Feltz the very same thing.

It could just be that your boyfriend is into MILFs, therefor may I suggest getting pregnant to him ensuring you plenty of sex in 9 months time. If you can’t get him into bed to get you up the duff there are lots of websites out there that sell gay men’s sperm at very reasonable prices. Thus ensuring you get a very witty and well-dressed child in the process, something no doubt your family of inbreds wouldn't have seen before.

Lastly Sophie I feel it is my duty to inform you that hemorrhoids aren’t an STD, well not unless they’re actually warts she’s got off your boyfriends riddled cock.

Love always, Mikie.