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snake
mountain |
stalking
/stalking 2 unmade sitcoms |
| In my position as a sexually ambiguous but
very hard rock star,
I am privileged enough to witness a log of pornography. So much
pornography, in fact, that it's difficult for me to distinguish
pornography from life. As you can imagine, this turns everyday business such
as shopping and volleyball into potential legal minefields!
My favourite film that I have ever seen involved a man who seemed most determined to fry his own penis. It made me think... could I make a film about frying my penis? Eventually, I became so preoccupied with this idea that I got my ladyboy wifehusband to buy a camcorder, and we set about reenacting this masterpiece. Here is our effort. |
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Here are the ingredients. We used Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
This may seem like an extravagance, but we had received a council grant
of £17,000,000 for this film, and we had no idea how to spend it. For
the penis substitute, I had bought some Not Bacon, a couple of sausages,
and as a last resort, a synthi-dick ejacu-flesh bumdildo that has been
knocking about the house for a while.
Here you see Not Bacon next to some Bacon, which is obviously is not.
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We immediately ran into problems. I am quite tall, but
even I had trouble getting my wee chappy onto the hob. The whole thing
looked strained and unsteady; all respect to the stars of the original
for making it look so easy!
Mokaka, my wife, knelt on all fours and gestured for me to stand on her back. She is mute, but eager. I sceptically tried this for a while, but she kept running around and getting excited when people walked past the window. She was bitten by a radioactive dog one week, then involved in a teleporter accident with another dog the week after, so she's 75% dog, 12.5% man, and 12.5% woman now. We eventually decided that I would stand on a compilation hardback copy of Clive Barker's Books of Blood. Mokaka went to the toilet at this point, as her lady part could feel herself getting giggly.
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The Not Bacon turned out to be a bit of a
wash-out. When I watched the playback with little Sanjay (Mokaka's
father, he is only 3 feet tall but hung like a pit pony), he agreed with me
that it looked like a soggy flat tongue hanging out of my pants, and did not lend
itself to the job.
And as you can see, the 2D nature of Not Bacon made for very embarrassing profile shots of my cock. However, I peeled off the stringy white strip of simulated fat, thinking that I could use later, it we wanted a cum shot.
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The sausage I eventually plumped for was a premium "Mr
Bristow's Choice Tomato and Herb" costing £1.99 for eight sausages from
Sainsbury's. The mottled grey meat filling did make it look a little
like a dead man's chappy, but after I drew a comprehensive network of
bulb veins in a bluey purple felt tip, it looked the business. After a few practice swings to
test stability (being careful not to get carried away), I started to fry
my new cock.
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I used a wooden spoon. It wasn't ideal and you may want to
try something else. I had planned to use that kind of big plastic flipping
thing - you know, the things you slide under burgers to toss them over.
But I looked around in the cutlery drawer and it was nowhere to be seen.
Come to think of it, I haven't seen it for ages. I hope I haven't lost
it.
I also found, quite by accident, that NOT pricking your sausage adds a quite convincing burst action, which dribbles fatty fluid hither and thither, just like in the film!
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Here is the fried sausage sticking out
of my pant. I am not terribly proud of the
results, but this is only my first time, and I am sure that if I keep
trying (and if I can get Mokaka to be sensible) then we shall have a
sizzling blockbuster on our hands.
Sizzling! Oh, I kill me. |
No thanks whatsoever to Martin Casterton who
refused point blank to help out with
this page in any way, on the groundless premise that it was a "shit
idea". Ya boo!
