No, tell us what you really think...

Below is, allegedly, a copy of a letter that won a competition in UK as complaint letter of the year...

It is a letter sent to NTL ( a cable TV and telephony company here in the UK)

Dear Cretins,
I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional perogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day, smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office:

My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful
website....HOW?

I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept.

The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools - such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.

I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly skilled bollock jugglers.

I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that no telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman...and several other variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustration's in print than to shout them at your unending hold music.

Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.

I thought BT were shit, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of godawful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.

British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cat's litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable
disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless
employees.

Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.

John

Now that's how to complain!

Enjoy...

Masturbation - the new fidelity...

My last post dealt with the definition of infidelity. Just to be clear, I was joking when I wrote the final "Is it cheating if your partner doesn't find out?"...

So, what is a man to do??? Men are driven by lust. Illicit shagging has cost an awful lot of high powered careers over years. 2004 was yet another annus sexualis - with David Blunkett and Boris Johnson caught tasting forbidden fruit (to name but two). My own infidelity could have cost me the most valuable assets I have - my house in Hampshire and the automobile collection... (Joke!) No, I really do mean my wife and family ;-).

How should we avoid such personal catastrophes? Given that I now accept that escorts are not the solution, I will adopt a more, shall we say, introspective approach to assuaging any unresolved sexual demons when my wife can't or won't indulge me. You understand where I'm coming from. And, indeed, what I'm coming into. A sock, for example.

The problem with wanking is that it is seen as the last refuge of the terminally sad. It is practised by the socially inept, the extravagently ugly or the charisma deficient. In short, wankers...

So what onanism needs in these status-conscious times is a bit of re-branding. So here are my top reasons for rubbing one out if the sexual frustration gets too much for you:

• Safety
  Well there aren't any dangers, are there. You are breaking no laws (unless you are in the queue at Tescos, obviously). You will not encounter an enraged boyfriend with a blunt instrument and a homicidal temper. So, unless you indulge in sexual asphixia à la Michael Hutchence ("choking the chicken" is a euphemism - it's not meant to be taken too literally, IMHO), you will live to fuck again.
  
• Hygene
  It is very clean (unless you are in the queue at Tescos, obviously). You won't catch a social disease. If you do, you are either doing something very wrong or only have yourself to blame...
  
• Availability
  It is available on demand (unless you are in the queue at Tescos, obviously). You need not invite yourself out for an expensive meal at Nobu or spend hours persuading yourself that your feelings for yourself are genuine.
  
• Potential
  As we all possess a fully working cerebral cortex (well, most of us) there are infinite possibilities. Gisele Bundchen and Adriana Lima inviting you back to their room for a little “two-on-one” after a Victoria's Secret photo shoot? Fine. Teri Hatcher wanting to be tied up because she is a “naughty slut”? Done. That little poppet ahead of you in the queue at Tescos? Don't go there...
  
• Convenience
  You don't need to get a taxi home. Or sleep surrounded by teddy bears and cats. You can roll over and switch on Match of the Day. Your hand won't need a cuddle. No-one will upbraid you for being an insensitive louse.
  
• Variety
  You can experiment with time and place. It does not have to be done after dark, under the covers, into a sock. Although, admittedly, that was exactly how I spent my early adolescence. By the time I was 15, my sock drawer was as crunchy as a sack of Hula Hoops. But try not to do it in the check out queue...
  
• Prevention
  Clearly, if you are constantly “bashing the bishop” you will have less energy to chase after little minxes in tight jeans. But there's more - recent research has suggested that the more prolific one is at masturbating, the more likely one is to experience detumescence or impotence with a second party (something I can attest to). Don't let this put you off. Embrace it. It means that, if you stray, you won't be able to complete. Sorted.

So there it is. Wanking is the new black. Everyone is doing it. As Woody Allen said,

"Masturbation? Don't knock it. It is, after all, sex with someone you love."

Enjoy...

Infidelity - where's the line?

I was intrigued by JaG's post that kissing a boy (or, in this case, a girl) would make her guilty of being unfaithful to her partner.

It got me musing. What constitutes cheating? Now, as a man that once judged that screwing an escort up the chuff was not an act of total infidelity, I suspect that I am not the best judge of this sort of thing. However, a drunken snog clearly doesn't count in my book.

Therefore, for the women readers, I thought that I'd give you a (tongue firmly in cheek) male view of what might be thought of as infidelity.

• Thinking
  No, your man having wild fantasies about Sienna Miller is not an offence. Nor is thinking about Julie from Accounts. Or your sister. Even if he is making love to you at the time. Men are pigs, so get used to it. He won't mind if you think about Jude Law as he gurns away on top of you (except to wonder why you fancy someone less good looking than him- men are self-deluding fools, so get used to it). What is not allowed is to accidentally call out the wrong name at the inappropriate moment. Not because that's cheating but because it is bad form. And will result in all sorts of trouble.
  
  
• Looking
  Ogling another woman is allowed (though one obviously shouldn't be caught looking at another woman). This rule is not affected by the state of undress of the other party. So eyeing up that young filly in a short skirt (and thinking impure thoughts) is no different to going to a strip club (and thinking impure thoughts). However, there is a rider: if the lady is naked, the man must have arrived at that situation in a group of people he knows well. Thus, it is OK to be at a titty bar with a bunch of mates - no impropriety there (just a bit of laddish fun). However, it is well out of order to have gone alone. That is just plain wrong.
  
  
• Touching
  Now, this is where it gets tougher. There is an escalating scale. Essentially, the more erogenous the zone, the greater the threat. Double it, if the zone is bare... Add 50% for stroking. Double again for sucking. Triple if you are doing the stoking with an erogenous zone of your own. Thus, a stoke of the clothed bum is fine. A cup of the naked breast - you can get away with. However, a word of warning to all women - the grey zone extends pretty far in most men's books. In a lap dancing club (yes, I arrived in a group), I have sucked a nipple, stroked a bare bum, had a bare thigh rubbed on my (clothed) erection (NB this rubbing doesn't count as it was her rubbing on me - passive is allowed) but I would not consider it infidelity. That's quite some threshold...
  
  
• Kissing
  Now this is one area that gives many people problems. Clearly, exaggerated air kisses are fine. Kisses to areas other than lips are covered under touching (note that lips are an erogenous zone and so you need to be very careful). Thus, lip-to-lip contact is fine. So what about a full-on snog - real tonsil hockey? Well, it clearly isn't infidelity in itself. But it is the intent that is the problem. A bloke doesn't stick his tongue down your throat unless he wants to shag you. No, it's worse than that - a bloke doesn't stick his tongue down your throat unless he is desparately trying to shag you (hopefully in the next five minutes). So why did I say earlier a frenchie didn't count? We have forgotten one key factor - alcohol. If he has had a few beers, malicious intent is removed... And that is why a snog is fine if you've had more than a couple of snifters. Unless, of course, it moves on to...
  
  
• Penetration
  This is where it becomes crystal clear, I'm afraid. Any act of penetration with any appendage (finger, tongue, elbow, cock, amputee stump) is out. Kissing being the exception that proves the rule. So sorry, Bill but oral does count. Both ways. Slipping it in but not coming is not fine (again a Bill defence - "I didn't inhale..."). Get caught and you're busted. Live with it, men.

Which leaves the fundamental male question for infidelity. It's a bit like the age old philosophical debate about the soundlessness of a tree falling in the forest when there is no-one there to hear it.

• Is it infidelity, if your partner never finds out about it?

Enjoy...

Phone ringing off the hook?

On a similar theme to the last post:



Well, that's a wide audience...

Transsexuals. Hmm. Very weird. Some are very hot (if you don't believe me, try B3Ta's "Female or Shemale" quizzes). Others look like a docker in a frock, a brickie wearing lipstick - not my cup of tea, at all.

So, on the hot ones, could I? Would I? Have I?

Er... "No," to the last one. "Don't know," to the others.

I guess it's all rather academic, given my new fidelity but if they were totally believeable as a woman (e.g. not got shoulders like a prop forward and hairy legs... well more than that, they'd need to be very feminine) then I might just take a "walk on the wild side"...[Well totally has to be taken with a pinch of salt, I guess, as once they are undressed they wouldn't be believeable].

What would intrigue me would be whether someone who used to be a man could pleasure me more than a woman (lesbians often cite the "inside knowledge" expertise of a same sex partner as the clincher). I even thought about a booking when I saw this girl's site but never took the plunge.

# Waits for cries of "Faggot" and then tells those bigots to fuck off and stop being so narrow minded #

Enjoy...

It pays to check...

Sorry work continues to consume me...

A joke to keep you going:

A guy is hanging out in his favorite bar when he spots a fabulous babe walking in on the arm of some ugly schlep. He asks the bartender about her and is surprised to discover that she's a prostitute. He watches her the rest of the night, amazed that someone so attractive could be available to him.

The next night he goes back to the bar, and sure enough she shows up again, only this time alone. The guy gets up his nerve and approaches her.

'Is it true you're a prostitute?'

'Why, sure, big boy. What can I do for you?'

'Well, I dunno. What do you charge?'

'I get $100 just for a handjob. We can negotiate from there.'

'$100 For a handjob? Are you nuts?'

'You see that Ferrari out there?'

The guy looks out the front door, and sure enough there's a shiny new Ferrari parked outside.

'I paid cash for that Ferrari with the money I made on handjobs. Trust me, it's worth it.'

The guy mulls it over for a while, and decides what the hell. He leaves with her, and gets the most unbelievable experience he's ever had. This handjob was better than any complete sexual experience in his miserable life.

The next night he's back at the bar, waiting eagerly for her to show up. When she does, he immediately approaches her.

'Last night was incredible'

'Of course it was. Just wait 'til you try one of my blowjobs.'

'How much is that?'

'$500'

'$500? C'mon, that's ridiculous.'

'You see that apartment building across the street?'

The guy looks out front at a 12 story apartment building.

'I paid cash for that building with the money I made on blowjobs. Trust me, it's worth it.'

Based on the night before, the guy decides to go for it. He leaves with her, and once again is not disappointed. He nearly blacks out twice from the pleasure he receives.

The next night he can hardly contain himself until she shows up. 'I'm hooked, you're the best. Tell me, what'll it cost me for some pussy?'

She motions for him to follow her outside. She points down the street, where between the buildings he can see Manhattan. 'You see that island?'

'Aw, c'mon, You can't mean that.'

She nods her head. 'You bet. If I had a pussy, I'd own Manhattan'

Enjoy...

Gently does it...

An inspired bit of advertising - made me smile.

Enjoy...

The other side of the coin...

It's not only husbands that can put witty messages on cars...



Sorry, I am jammed.

I also have been thinking about some very personal posts. ("More personal???" you may well be asking...). I haven't decided, if I can even do this in an anonymous form...

I'll be back soon.

Till then, enjoy...

Withering through lack of use...

I feel very lucky to have a wife I love, who I believe reciprocates my love. I am even luckier that I have a wife who is now eager- or, perhaps, just prepared to - explore her sexuality with me. But I feel that I am in, if not a tiny minority, then a lucky half of marriages.

When I speak to my married friends, the single biggest complaint is that their sex life has evaporated.

Now, I won't argue that this is one sided - I know men who no longer have any sexual attraction to their wives. Also, though there is a correlation to when their spouse has piled on the pounds, I know a few bankers married to models and one of those sleeps around with women way less attractive than his wife (fuckwit). Undeniably, a few of the blokes have let themselves go too, which would have an effect on the wife's libido.

However, the gist of my arguement is that the incidence of men going off sex in marriage seems to be far lower than the what happens to the female side.

I also realise that my mates do not constitute a statistically significant sample but you just need to look at the prevalence of jokes like the last one, the one at the end of this post or the old:

Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%.
It's called Wedding Cake.

The broad conclusion is that it is wives generally who start to retreat from sex in marriage.

Why is this? I know that I put up a few possible reasons but I'd love to have some feedback from others.

I really don't want it to happen again. Mrs S and I had a great sex life when we were first together. I am worried it could evaporate once more, leaving me isolated, out in the cold.

Also, we have the sexually voracious married female bloggers (Bliatz, Good Wife, Odd Wife, Wicked Wife to name but a few) but where are the ones denying their hubby his "conjugal rights" (to be clear, I find that term abhorrent)? Now, admittedly I haven't gone looking for them and they are scarcely likely to say "I told the filthy pervert to keep his hands to himself last night". Or perhaps they do (the wonders of the internet never cease).

Bliatz once said she had an interlude in her marriage in which her libido waned and others have hinted at it. Ladies, what started it and what stopped it?

A joke to get your creative juices flowing.

A woman arrives home after a shopping trip, walks into the bedroom and is horrified to find her husband going at it hammer and tongs with an attractive young female.

Just as she's set to storm out of the house, her husband leaps up. "Before you leave, I want you to hear how this all came about. Driving home, I saw this young girl, poor and tired, so I offerd a lift in my car. She was starving, so I brought her home and fed her some of the leftovers you'd forgotten about in the fridge. Her shoes were falling appart, so I gave her a pair of your shoes that were going to the charity shop. She was freezing, so I gave her that sweater I gave you for your birthday but you never wore because 'the colour didn't suit you'. Her trousers were threadbare, so I gave her a pair of yours that were 'no longer in style'.

Then, just as she was leaving, she paused and asked, 'Is there anything else that your wife doesn't use anymore?' And so here we are..."

Enjoy...

Honey, I'm home...

I stumbled across a joke that seemed appropriate (even though it bears no resemblance to my life at the moment...), given my last post.

Two guys are in a bar having a drink after work. A quick pint had turned into quite a few, as they put the world to rights. Suddenly, one of them looks at his watch and says, “Oh fuck! Look at the time! My wife will be asleep in bed now.”

His colleague asked, “So what's the problem?”

“Well,” begins the other, “I'll get home and no matter how quietly I come in she'll be awake. She'll then give me a hard time about coming in this late and demand to know where I've been all this time.”

“Oh, you should do what I do,” said the other. “Make as much noise as you can when you come in and shout up that she better get ready because you're horny and want a blow job when you get into bed.

“Trust me, she'll pretend to be asleep when you walk in...”

Enjoy...

Sleeping beauty...

My last post might be inferred as suggesting that I am unhappy with my wife's sexual prowess. That was not my intention, as it is not true.

I am very satisfied. I just want to be even more satisfied. :-)

I was only recently thinking of how my sex life has changed. A year ago I was fucking escorts for a sexual thrill. I was coming home to a wife who had no interest in sex with me (or anyone else, as far as I could see).

Now, the escorts are gone from my life (if not always from my thoughts) and I have a wonderful time experimenting our sexualities with my wife, in a loving relationship. I believe that she is enjoying life too.

Last night was a great example. I came home to our country home late from a client dinner to find my wife asleep in bed. A few differences from last year:

• In the old days I wouldn't have been at home. I'd probably have taken a hotel room in London (I have never been unfaithful to my wife in one of our homes) and shagged some expensive hooker. If I did come back, I'd have worked out she was asleep and taken the opportunity to do a little “five on one” in front of some porn, as sex would have been as unlikely as a snowball in hell.
  
• What I would not have done is slip into bed immediately and slide softly next to her prone form.
  
• She would not have been in silk lingerie that took my breath away.
  
• I would not have kissed the back of her neck, stroked her hair.
  
• She would not have reponded by murmering softly, eyes still closed, in contentment and desire (a “Not now, I'm asleep” would have been the standard result).
  
• I would not have slipped my hand over her back, caressing her curves, feeling her warmth, savouring her sexual energy.
  
• I would not have felt her legs part almost imperceptably and her hips nudge my erection in encouragement.
  
• I would not have slid my hand over her soft buttocks and between her thighs, slipping my fingers to her vulva.
  
• She would not have pushed her hips back slightly to allow my hand better access to her pussy.
  
• Her labia would not have been hot, wet and engorged. They would not have welcomed my probing fingers hungrily.
  
• I would not have slipped my fingers easily inside her or gently teased at her anus. This would not have driven her to moan softly.
  
• I would not have slid between her legs and slipped my cock into her still prone form, kissing her neck, pinning her to the bed beneath me like a captured butterfly.
  
• She would have not cried out as the first orgasm rippled through her.
  
• I would not have pulled her hips up and fucked her sweet, burning pussy from behind until we reached a shuddering climax together (all without a word said).

My life has changed... I love it. I love her.

Enjoy...

Sanding the pool cue...

My last post got me thinking... How does one tell one's long term partner that his/her sexual technique leaves something to be desired?

My wife, when I met her had a technique on blow-jobs and hand-jobs that, shall we say, left a little to be desired (but, trust me, she made up for it in many, many other ways). What I did not realise, despite having experienced a pretty wide ranging sample of female approaches (and no male ones, to be clear...) was how poor that was compared to a professional... And don't worry, I'm sure that, were Mrs S to hire Monmouth for a few evenings of slap and tickle, she would be saying the same thing about me. I am also not without my problems too (more of which in a later post, methinks).

Now here's the thing. I am an expert in giving a hand-job. Er, perhaps, I ought to rephrase that... I am an expert in giving myself a hand-job - I know how I like it (though a couple of working girls used different and successful approaches). I have therefore managed to coach her in giving me a good wank. She quite likes getting my cock well-lubed and feeling it thicken and twitch in her hand. I like it that she gets off on that. The sensation of someone else doing it to you is outstanding.

But chaps, let's be honest here. A woman giving you a wank is a waste of a perfectly good orgasm. If you wanted a liaison with "Mrs Hand and her five lovely daughters", you'd fire up the porn and get busy "bashing the bishop" yourself. Much more efficient and, in some ways therefore, more pleasureable.

What we all want is a blow-job: her head bobbing up and down on one's cock, saliva running over your balls, eye contact filled with pure lust. (Ladies, one tip from me is always look into a man's eyes when blowing your man - that look of shameless desire will have him coming quicker than any tongue flicking technique).

Now this is my problem, I've never given anyone a blow-job (nor do I want to start, before you volunteer). So I can't really give advice. I don't really know what she is doing wrong. No, really!

• Her teeth are grazing my cock but, whilst I'd like to believe that I am King Dong, sadly I know that I was not too big for my other partners. She can't get her mouth wider.
• There is not enough saliva lubricating the process but she says that is the maximum spit she produces.
• The head bobbing doesn't feel vigorous enough but looks great.
• There is not enough added hand action.
• The suction is not enough.

I think...

You see, this is the strange thing. When a woman is doing it well - and I have had some mind-blowing head from escorts - I am am little too distracted to notice exactly what she is doing. When the next girl is not doing it right (and in this case my wife), I don't know what worked last time.

Is she not using enough head movement but too much suction?

Fucked if I know - but it's not working.

Don't get me wrong - she gets me (very) hard; she gets me (very) close; but she doesn't get me off.

Since I can't really bring in a professional to train her (well, it's worth a thought...) and I can't say, "Well, a hooker I slept with did that...", what I really need are some good analogies that worked for the ladies ("Imagine you are trying to suck cement through a straw", or "Think of it as trying to bang nails in with your forehead"). I noticed that the apparently now (sadly) defunct Kinky Bitch has a link to a website but that is way too graphic for my wife - I want to progress this in small increments before presenting her a treatise on how to suck my dick... She is already improving - as I tell her, "practice makes perfect..."

So, suggestions please.

Thought for today:

Why can't women put on mascara with their mouth closed?!

Enjoy...

*BTW - click on the picture to be taken to the "Internet's largest collection of girls eating bananas". The site is 4 Padded Walls (subtitled "sanity is overated"). Weird! You've got to love the madness that is the World Wide Web...

Post Script:
Subsequent to this post GwaotM posted a fabulous entry on how to give a stunning hand job (read it here)

I can no longer consider myself as an expert at giving myself a hand-job - her's sounds way better. I retract my comment. I'm not worthy... I'm not worthy...

She also made this post incorrect in other ways:
1. I said I'd trained my wife to give good hand-jobs but DAMN, I want one of those... I'll have to find a way to get my wife to read that post...
2. I said I thought a wank from a girl is a waste of an orgasm but that sounds like an experience and a half...

Something to suck on...

A comment from the wonderful God Hates Kittens (a new link on the sidebar) made me think of a joke. GHK wrote:

"The only time my wife doesn't let me [go down on her] is when she doesn't feel "clean". Other than that I'm stumped, it would be like saying no to a blowjob, which my brain won't let me comprehend. "

in response to my post on my wife's aversion to cunnilingus.

So, here is my tasteless joke (which for once, I can't blame on my mother...)

A man is visiting his poor wife in hospital. She has been in a coma for six months. The doctors have begun to give up hope. However, the husband returns each day to hold his wife's hand and talk to her. As he does this today, his arm brushed over her breast. His wife gave a little murmer.

The consultant noticed this and said, "That's amazing. What did you do?"

The man thought about it and said "It must have been this..." and caressed her breast. His wife stirred noticeably.

"Try that again!" demanded the doctor.

An even better response. "Right, try some more direct stimulation," said the physician. The man slipped his hand between his wife's thighs - she began to moan and move her hips.

"Excellent, excellent! This is really working," exclaimed the doctor. "Right, we will leave you alone so that you can try oral sex - that should really get things moving." He ushered all the nurses out of the room. The husband looked very excited.

Five minutes later, all hell breaks loose - every monitor is going crazy and alarms are blaring out. The doctor rushes back into the room. "What happened?" he asks, desparately looking from the dead woman to the husband.

The hubby murmurs, rather shamefaced, "I think she choked..." as he hurriedly zips up his trousers.

Enjoy...