Little Frigging In The Wold

Seasonal Fetish Gear

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 12:14:00 +0000

Anyway, now that the festering season is well over and even the sales of seasonal fetish gear are drawing to a close, with sales of holly-based bondage harnesses seemingly being far greater than anyone would have suspected, as well as erotic reindeer dressing up kits again at a seasonal high.

Snow-based perversions have – due to global warming – once more seemed very popular, especially with the added piquancy of sleigh balls and thermal jockstraps for the more well-blessed gentleman who finds it a bit too snug when he – as tradition dictates – attempts to tuck it into the tops of his wellies.

As for the ladies, fetish mittens are – of course, essential – as well as the new Splodge and sons Pulsating Penguin 2100 with built in intimate warming circuits and fur-lined handgrips and ankle-rests, as well as a laser-guided sight for pinpoint accurate pleasurable sensations.

Not only that, for the lady who enjoys having a well-rounded bearded gentleman ensconced in her smouldering orifice in the small hours of the night there are costumes available for that very purpose, including a large sack for him to empty into her stockings at the moment of crisis.

All in all then, the sales of these goods in the post-festive season all points to something more than just flying reindeer to pique the interest once next Christmas comes around, so if you hurry you may just be able to get your mittens on someone’s cheap baubles before the shops clear the stocks away for another year.

Up before Dawn

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 15:14:00 +0000

As you are aware, especially if he has prodded you in the back in the village orgy half-time buffet queue, Grand Uncle Stagnant is a fine upstanding gentleman, despite his advanced age. He, himself, puts his longevity down to always getting it up before Dawn in the mornings. Dawn herself regards this as rather a good thing too, except when he prods her awake out of a particularly intriguing dream in order for her to admire his accomplishment.

If you are a regular peruser of my organ, you will also be very aware that Grand Uncle Stagnant doesn’t believe that advanced age should be any bar to putting yourself about a bit. Therefore, most mornings, once Dawn has set off to help Rosie practice her fingerings, Grand Uncle Stagnant goes about assisting the dairymaids in order to improve their grip and wrist action ready for the next time the cows are in the milking shed.

Not only does he do all he can – and as often as he can – to keep his body in fine fettle, Grand Uncle Stagnant is a firm believer in keeping his mind active too. Therefore, during the lunch hour, he is often engaged in the traditional philosophical debates that take place every day in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage, before taking the afternoon off for some much needed rest and resuscitation with a brace of dairymaids in the haystack, before preparing himself for that evening’s orgy in the village hall.

Vital Village Orgy Essentials

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 16:04:00 +0000

Now, obviously in any village orgy, or even any competitive inter-village orgy, from the local leagues right up to the World Inter-Village Orgy Cup, there is always one constant that is vital for the participants to enjoy the full benefits of the perverse experience.

Here I, of course, speak of the Nice Cup of Tea.

As perverteers of long-standing, I am sure that the perusers of my organ need no further reminding of the bounteous benefits of the Nice Cup of Tea. Although, there are rumours that there are some on the continent, and even some out in the colonies, who do not re-invigorate their orgy-going experience with a Nice Cup of Tea, I’m sure that no-one here ever considers such an offence against all that is natural and good in the perverse arts.

We all are prepared to admit, I’m sure, that there is a place for most beverages in a village-orgy context – up to and including Bovril, I’m sure that as reasonable people we can all agree that they all - including coffee – pale into insignificance when compared to the Nice Cup of Tea.

This must become obvious to everyone when the biscuits and/or cake are brought out during the refreshment break at half-time in the village orgy. Pleasant as the other beverages may be, none of them fits so well – like a well-oiled vicar into a campanologist – as a cup of tea with either cake or biscuits.

Therefore, if you through some unfortunate turn of circumstance find that you – in the near future – are attending a village orgy without adequate tea-making facilities: although I, for one, could not imagine why that should ever be the case. Please remember – at the very least – to take a flask of tea with you if you do not wish to have your orgiastic performance hindered and – possibly - even derided.

Alleged Illicit Practices in Inter-Village Orgy League Matches

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 12:14:00 +0000

It is likely that you – like me – were taken aback by some of the allegations printed in the sports pages of some of the specialist Gentleman's Interest magazines, and on some of the more sexually relaxed sports-related websites concerning illicit practices in Inter-Village Orgy League matches.

Most of these allegations seem to feature unnamed players from unnamed teams talking – for the first time – frankly about the illicit use of certain performance-enhancing substances in Inter-Village Orgy league and cup matches.

It is especially worrying to hear allegations that some players may have been en-smearing themselves with 3-fruit marmalade in order to gain unfair advantage over opposing players, and to enhance their prowess over opposing teams, for whom the very thought of entering a competitive orgy en-smeared with marmalade is an anathema, and contrary to all decent sporting instincts.

However, such is the danger of marmalade endangering what could already be an over-startled chicken during the tense closing half-hour of an inter-village competitive orgy, that all-comers to a village orgy have to undergo mandatory marmalade testing in the undressing room before the beginning of the start of the commencement of the match.

Therefore, any such tales of smuggled marmalade – as well as the illicit use of toast-making equipment in the undressing room can be treated with some amount (I suggest a tablespoon) of scepticism. It would come as no surprise (especially to the otherwise easily-startled chicken) that this is yet another tabloid-inspired moral panic that will soon be forgotten about as the Inter-Village Orgy League enters its final stages over the coming months.

Pervertner’s Guide to the Rural Rude and Naughty

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 12:13:00 +0000

‘It is not easy, finding a way through the undergrowth, sometimes, but then if you have a firm enough grasp on your probing tool a way can usually be found to gain entrance to the more enchanting and secluded groves on our rural byways.’ Such was the opening sentence of Pervertner’s Guide to the Rural Rude and Naughty of England, which was – as time went on – to become the essential guide to Britain’s most perverse rural areas at the beginning of this century.

Pervertner’s as it has become known is indispensable to anyone who sets out on a walking tour of Britain’s more perverse rural villages and hamlets, as well as being quite a good guide to the UK’s naughtiest towns, cities and suburban areas. Pervernter himself devoted his life from the publication of this first volume of his guide to exploring as much of the rural UK as he could, as well as sampling as much of the UK’s famed taste for rural naughtiness as he could. Not only that, he developed the UK’s first rating system for the ranking the naughtiness of the UK’s dairymaids, cake shop manageresses and postmistresses in a way that has never been bettered.

Not even the EU’s brand-new Europe-Wide perversion scale – the Wankometrique. Unfortunately, this is - of course - in metric and, as such, consequently plays down the naughtiness level of England’s assistant librarians can really compare to the Pervertner scale. The Pervertner scale can also be used to measure – with often quite startling accuracy - the hotness of meat pies, the breeding seasons of sheep and cows, the gripping strength of dairymaids and even small local earthquakes.

All-in-all then Pervertner’s Guide’ is an invaluable aid to everyone with an interest in the perverse arts and sciences and should therefore make an ideal gift for the deviant in your life, or for an interested neophyte.

Poking About in the Rough

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 12:15:00 +0000

Now, there are some gentlemen who – apparently – much prefer poking about in the rough for their balls and discussing the merits of getting a hole in one with like-minded acquaintances. However, for those of us who prefer not to get sand in our crevasses whilst sharing a bunker with a willing partner who makes helpful comments on one’s grip and stance, golf is merely a pastime, and – at that – one with a poor taste in fetish gear.

Although, as Grand Uncle Stagnant often attests, it is good to go for a sit down and a bit of rest and relaxation after your 18^th hole of the day. However that is something easily accomplished by retiring to the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage’ after a village orgy night and resuscitating one’s self with a reinvigorating pint of the landlord’s best and a packet of pork scratchings. Not only that, for those who enjoy a discussion of tactical finesse and how to improve one’s swing, there are plenty of philosophers of the perverse arts and sciences usually to be found in that cosy symposium. Thus, this mass debate will enable the barmaid, or any other lady patron of the Pervert’s Appendage to get as many pointers as she could possibly desire in one evening.

A Firm Grasp of a Gentleman’s Predicament

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 12:18:00 +0000

There is no more stirring a sight, able to bring a warm glow to a gentleman’s trouser region, than a cake shop manageress getting her warm baps out, dressed only in an apron and oven gloves. Of course, none of us can wait very long to get our hands on her baps, especially when hot and as everyone knows cake shop manageresses are always, always, hot*.

This is, of course, not to say that the other ladies of the village of Little Frigging in the Wold are lacking when it comes to the carnal arts and applied orgiastics. I – for one** - would not wish to disparage any of the other ladies of the village in any way whatsoever, especially the dairymaids with their well-known ability to take a firm grasp of any gentleman’s predicament and not let go until he begs for release. In addition, I would warn any gentleman not to forget those fine upstanding ladies, the Strap-On Sisters, who always makes sure that no man ever forgets their interventions as they forcibly insert themselves into his fundamental meditations and ruminations whenever they feel a gentleman would benefit from the experience they impose upon him.

*This is why, if you want your sausage roll or pork baguette hot, you should always let a cake shop manageress warm it up for you in her oven.

** Or more, if you have the time and your hot strumpets are buttered and ready.

On ‘Just Stepping Outside for a Moment’

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 16:18:00 +0000

Now, as you approach, say, a cake shop manageress with full intent, within a village hall orgy context, it is best to make sure that she is completely aware of your approach, especially if you have just stepped back inside after going out for a breath of fresh air. This will ensure that she doesn’t, for example, drop a stitch in a crucial stage of her knitting, or lose her thread when discussing the shortcomings of their mutual neighbours with a coven of acquaintances when you come upon her unawares.

However, should you have stepped outside during the rest of the year other than the UK’s usual one day of summer; your intent will – no doubt – not be as obvious as you’d hoped. It may even be the case that you need the attentions of a suitably warmly-bemittened bevy of dairymaids before you are once more fully up to the task you have set yourself for the second half of the village orgy.

Furthermore, if you do step outside the village hall on any day other than the aforesaid one day of summer you will have to take care that you do not get you best pair of fetish wellies muddy. When traversing that collection of puddles, loose stones and other detritus the Village Hall Orgy Steering Committee optimistically like to call the car park, it is probably best to bring a spare set of working wellies for such eventualities.

However, unless it is a ‘Bring a Guest’ Village Orgy Night, it is probably best to remove the back legs of the sheep from the wellies before setting out for the evening.

Very Sociable Media

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 12:05:00 +0000

Of course, these days everyone in the mainstream media keeps on about ‘social media’ as though it is all an invention of the interwebnets and the like had ne’er been gazed ‘pon before. However, we in England’s tight knit* rural communities have been networking very socially with each other for a long time now, especially through the typical all-village orgy in the village hall, and – consequently – with the villagers from nearby in the Inter-Village Orgy League. It has even gone international – world-wide if you will, through first the European Inter-Village Orgy Cup and – latterly, since the end of WWII – the increasingly popular World Inter-Village Orgy Cup, where national teams from all over the world (and Canada) compete together every four years in a mutually-satisfying series of competitive orgies until one nation comes out on top.

There you have it (and if you wouldn’t mind stroking it gently whilst you do have it I will soon display my effusions of gratitude for your dexterity). It is proof – should proof be needed, that through the use of the inter-village orgy true social networking can be achieved without any of that tedious arsing about with routers, firewalls and virtual poking (unless that sort of thing gets you aroused, of course).

*A warning here it can become rather… er… entangled if the ladies of the village continue with their knitting whilst engaged in an all-village orgy, especially if the balls of wool get knocked hither and yon around the hall during the proceedings, thus ensnaring everyone in a tangle of moistness, nudity and woollen yarn. This is all well and good until someone in the midst of the entanglement realises they are about to miss their bus and chaos ensues as they attempt to extricate themselves from the wool-bound scrummage.

Polishing his Helmet

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 12:19:00 +0000

As Little Frigging in the Wold is fortunate enough to exist in a quiet rural backwater with little crime, it means that there is little for our village policeman, PC Ghonnemadd, to do most days, other than polish his helmet.

Of course, PC Ghonnemadd is lucky in that on his daily perambulations around the village there are several ladies of the village all willing to give him a hand to polish his helmet. However, PC Ghonnemadd himself has warned them that should an emergency arise while they are polishing his helmet then the ladies must be prepared to drop everything and to stand well back as he pulls out his truncheon ready for immediate action.

As you may well know, many ladies find the idea of a man in uniform quite exciting, especially if they are in a position to help him remove it. Consequently, PC Ghonnemadd always has plenty of women ready to give his helmet a good buffing, even with the danger of his having to leave the vicinity in a hurry. For example, he could receive an emergency radio call-out to investigate reports of mysterious noises coming from the barn where Grand Uncle Stagnant and a brace of dairymaids retried to in order to, as they put it, ‘choke the chicken’.

Muckibelli’s Prince

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:56:00 +0000

‘Tarry thee not at the sticking post, always strike while the courgette is warm and well-lubricated with the unguent of thy choosing, my Lord.’ Such was the sage advice by the adviser to his prince by the renowned Renaissance philosopher of the perverted arts and sciences, Muckibelli, in his Discourses on the Erotic Uses of the Pineapple., which was intend as a guide to the best palace orgy practices, not only for Muckibelli’s prince, but also for all the royalty of the era.

The Renaissance, as its name suggested, was a re-flowering of interest in the classical times at – roughly – the end of the medieval period. Consequently, many royals, nobles and even some of the wealthy merchants and traders of the aspiring new middle class were very interested in aping – what they saw as – the civilised values of the classical age, especially those parts involving orgies, perversions and other such rude, moist and naughty goings-on.

Renaissance scholars, therefore, pored over whatever works of classical antiquity they could get their hands on, and - as with the internet today – most of what they spent most of their time examining turned out to be the rude and naughty bits.

Muckibelli himself maintained that the Roman orgy was the apex of civilisation, especially in the then-revolutionary way the Romans utilised foodstuffs to enhance the proceedings, as well as their very liberal use of olive oil and other such unguents and lubricants.

Unfortunately, Muckibelli’s scholarship was not as accurate as he’d hoped and he was – tragically – crushed to death under the wheels of a speeding chariot when trying to re-create what he thought was a typical Roman chariot race-based orgy whilst he and his paramour were still liberally-coating each other with olive oil whilst steering around a sharp corner.

However, the writings of Muckibelli that survived went on to become a classic of Theoretical Orgiastics, still studied right up to the present day at the University of Little Frigging (formerly the cow shed).

On the Necessity of Post-Orgy Wheelbarrows

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 12:15:00 +0000

Now, usually on Wednesdays as we denizens of Little Frigging make our way down to the village hall for the midweek orgy, many of us will of course, have our sex spatulas pre-oiled and ready, especially if we usually encounter an assistant librarian or two in the vestibule in need of a pre-orgy spatula manipulation.

Many of us, as the advancing years force their deprecations upon what was once young, fine and upstanding personage, feel that we need a pre-orgy lift to our ardour. Consequently, encountering a brace of assistant librarians ensconced in the vestibule is always uplifting, even to the most jaded of orgy-goers. This is especially the case if the assistant librarians have deployed themselves in a spatula-ready formation, ready for one to step up and begin proceedings without any of the formalities that often rob these routine village orgies of spontaneity, at least until the turbo sex-weasels are released.

However, by that stage of the orgy most of us will already have used up most of the onion gravy set aside for the purpose (however, the porpoises should have plenty of egg sauce left, if necessary, providing the fishnets do not have too coarse a mesh.)

Still, sometimes age does burden us down, so that by the end of even a light mid-week orgy, many of us feel the need to utilise some one of the post-orgy wheelbarrows set aside for the purpose in the village hall car park to get us home again afterwards.

Hairstylists and Unseasonable Weather

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 15:50:00 +0000

Now, look, I know this is usually the time of year when the hairstylists have normally fully prepared themselves for hibernation. However, this year the time when they begin filling their nests with the materials they need to survive the long dark winter nights: chocolate, strong wines and spirits, DVDs, glossy 'How To Do Sex Properly' magazines and instruction manuals, boxes of tissues, and - of course - several hundredweight of next summer's holiday brochures has not come about as normal.

Consequently, the unseasonably warm weather we have experienced of late means that some of the hairstylists are still in holiday mood, contemplating early winter breaks with all the avid alacrity of a rural vicar in a metropolitan porn emporium on sale day.

This - of course - could play havoc with the breeding cycle of the hairstylists, and thereby cause chaos in the livestock markets. It could result in a catastrophe greater even than the Great Sherry Trifle Outbreak of 1976, which resulted in several thousand prime breeding hairstylists breaking out in uncontrollable giggling before, a few hours later, falling over in moaning heaps, begging to be put out of our misery.

Spanish Practices

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 12:02:00 +0000

Hopalong Arsetwanger is – quite rightly, to what's left of my mind – credited with the introduction of certain Spanish practices into the English perverteer's repertoire.

Up until Arsetwanger returned from the Spanish Civil War, where he had taken a wrong turn just outside Barcelona and had spent the majority of the war ensconced in the bosoms of the ladies of a Catalonian brothel, little was known of Spanish perversions in the UK.

These days, most ladies at a village orgy will know that the deft manipulation of the castanets is a sure way to get her gentleman to be upstanding. In addition, she will know just how to swirl her cape so that she can get any upstanding gentleman bearing down on her to place his horn in exactly the right place for her to achieve full satisfaction.

However, it was Arsetwanger himself who introduced an initially sceptical British public to such widening of the then somewhat insular British orgiastic philosophy. However, a lot of Arsetwanger's influence was very short-lived. Not long after his return to these shores, World War II broke out and – of course – brought with it the Austerity Orgies of that period. Rationing meant that even a Seville orange was regarded as a luxury and with the men away at the front; few women had the chance to perfect their handling of the castanets, at least until the American soldiers turned up... eventually.

With the introduction of the American high-speed perversions, production line and drive-in orgies and fast fondling techniques taking such a hold on British orgy-goers during the immediate post-war period, it seemed that the slower paced European and, especially, the Mediterranean orgy practices had fallen out of fashion.

It is hoped by those of us attempting to keep the traditional ways alive, though, that soon more English orgy-goers and perverteers will, one day, return to the more traditional orgy stylings of our common European ancestry and, consequently, Hopalong Arsetwanger’s legacy will be restored to its rightful place at the centre of everyone’s perverse repertoire*.

*Providing they still have enough play left in their castanets, obviously.

The Erotic Use of Cardboard

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 12:36:00 +0000

Of course the use of cardboard in a village orgy can sometimes have unfortunate side-effects, especially if the cardboard gets damp, ripped or trampled underfoot in the rush to the half-time hot buffet. Therefore, the erotic use of the cardboard cut-out film star, TV personality, famous stockbroker, mathematician or - in extremely perverse cases - national politician cannot be recommended outside of your own erotic boudoir, sex pantry and/or cow shed whichever is more applicable.

However, the Little Frigging postmistress, Labia Entanglements, has recently taken delivery of some cardboard face masks originally intended as fright facemasks for use during the recent Halloween period. These have proved (surprisingly) popular for inter-village friendly orgies, especially when the Little Frigging visiting village orgy team went up against Lower Crotchstaine in the recent Inter-Village Orgy Cup tie last Saturday.

The Lower Crotchstaine team didn’t take much persuading to wear the masks as they found them much more attractive than looking at each other, thus enabling the Little Frigging team were to become far more intimate with the opposition due to the Lower Crotchstaine team's use of the masks to obscure their…. somewhat… er… interestingly unusual facial features. Much has been said in the past of the denizens of Lower Crotchstaine and their propensity to keep things in the family, much more than is considered normal in any other rural village community, even in those villages where family affairs are quite common, often due to awkward geographical conditions leading to relative isolation for that community.

Consequently, the Little Frigging players were much more willing to get stuck into the scrum with the Lower Crotchstaine team than is usually the case, Little Frigging managed to score several times in the dying minutes of extra time to win the match and thus move on to the next round.

With a Nip in the Air

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 12:08:00 +0000

As the one day of the English summer fades into memory, the notion of open-air perversions begins to lose some of its appeal. Except, of course, for those perversions that employ woolly mittens, a flask of hot tomato soup or a Cornish pastie*, we begin to turn our minds and any nearby canteen manageress to the thought of more indoor-based perversions.

Of course, for some of the more rigorous indoor perversions, especially those that incorporate either the stepladder or the pogo-stick it is vital to make sure there is enough headroom in the village orgy hall. For, as all gentlemen of good standing know, what a disappointment it is not to be able to get any head room due to lack of space. It is also vital to make sure that any access to the downstairs areas is not impeded in any way just in case the lady of your current dalliance needs you to go down for her.

In such cases, the gentleman should make sure that he is equipped with a hard hat, if in doubt it is advisable to ask someone with the requisite expertise, such as a post-mistress if she feels your helmet is capable of withstanding the rigours of the occasion.

*Or, as in the case of the Gentleman’s Highway Stand and Deliver perversion – all three.

When Lawyers Mature

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 13:37:00 +0000

I suppose it is always a slightly bitter-sweet time once the year's crop of lawyers has gone to market, especially for those runts of the litter who fail to find a law firm willing to take them on, who end up being sold into politics. It is not a life that you would normally wish upon anyone, not even lawyers... well... maybe not....

However, once the tad-lawyers have had a taste of litigation it is almost impossible to wean them off their desire for laws, if not to work and live amongst the laws, then to do their best to make them unworkable.

For such is the instinctive need of lawyers to feather their nests with as many laws as possible, they also seem to have some instinct for making the laws themselves as impenetrable to outsiders as they possibly can. Of course, there is an evolutionary reason for this, the more complex and impenetrable the law, the more the lawyer can charge for seeming to understand it, and - like the peacock's tail – the lawyer that charges the highest fee is the one more liable to get a mate*.

*As - quite often – no-one else would want the stigma of being seen mating with a lawyer, the only way a lawyer could get a mate was to pay for it. However, since the startling discovery of female lawyers by naturalists this has – to some extent – changed.

On the Essence of Manliness

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 11:00:00 +0000

Of course, the sight of a pulchritudinous post-mistress dressed in a rubber trainee-supermarket manager fetish outfit is enough to cause a stirring in the trouser area of any red-blooded Englishman. Consequently making him desperately search out a nearby-unopened jam jar so that he can demonstrate his supreme manliness to her by getting its lid off in front of her very eyes.

It does go without saying that any woman is bound to be impressed by a man who can get the lid off a jar without causing himself too much of an injury and without – most importantly – denting his ardour.

However, there are some women who find themselves overcome by the kind of man able to reach some of the higher shelves, especially in a supermarket, where the staff choose to put everything you actually want just out of your reach, just – it seems – for the hell of it.

In the hothouse atmosphere of the village hall weekly orgy and homemade cake sale, however, there is little a man has to do to show any woman there his interest in a dalliance with her, beyond complimenting her on the moistness of her cupcakes and tweaking the cherries on the tips of her Belgian buns. Although, if he is dressed in his full leather auditing gear, even that may not be entirely necessarily to get her to put her knitting aside for a time (or two).

Getting Steamy in the Cake Shop

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 11:00:00 +0000

Approaching a cake shop manageress should only be attempted in clear visibility, and so caution should be utilised if approaching one either on a misty morning, or if the kitchen area of the cake shop is steamy. However, the default setting of the cake shop manageress is always steamy, so being overcautious in such a situation can only result in a dent in your ardour or structural damage to your cream horn.

Most cake shop manageresses - as you no doubt will know – prefer to work naked except for an apron and oven gloves, which often helps when she kneels to see if your dough has risen, or if it needs a bit more kneading. Some gentlemen in such cases prefer the added frisson that keeping the oven gloves on brings to such occasions; others tend to kind such erotic charges somewhat over-stimulating and prefer just a light dusting of self-raising flour.

In any eventuality, it is considered only polite for any gentleman visiting the cake shop to insist that the cake shop manageress or her counter assistant sample his hot sausage roll and that if requested he leave a generous dollop of his fresh cream in all their apple turnovers.

Ladies Lingering in their Lingerie

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 15:14:00 +0000

It has been brought to the attention of the Village Hall Orgy Steering Committee that there are far too many ladies lingering in their lingerie in the vestibule of the village hall on orgy nights. This is especially awkward when the men from Technical Support have to attempt to manoeuvre past these ladies without getting any of their protuberances intertwined in the corridors. It is especially difficult when trying to manoeuvre pogo sticks and barge poles into the main hall in readiness for the Ladies' Excuse-Me in the second-half of the village hall orgy.

Hanging around – except by those with an interest in bondage - is not to be encouraged by anyone involved in the village hall orgies, especially when it may result in excess spillage of cream from a gentleman's cream horn when attempting to ease himself through a crush of scantily-clad ladies, all asking for a taste of his cream or a lick of his horn.

Furthermore, our volunteer fireman Strom Thighhammer has also pointed out that if a fire broke out in the hall, with so many under-dressed ladies in the corridors, he would find it very difficult to utilize the full length of his hose without running the risk of it being trampled by a sudden rush of over-excited ladies.

Therefore, the Village Hall Orgy Steering Committee request that all lingerie-clad ladies try to keep the corridors clear in future.

Thank you for your co-operation.

Strom Thighhammer and the Large Hard-On Collider

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 11:00:00 +0000

Unfortunately, for the last fortnight or so, the ladies of Little Frigging have all been rather downcast, no matter what I and the rest of the proudly-upstanding gentlemen of the village have done to buck their ideas up.

It seems that the ladies are more than a little put out that our very own village blacksmith and volunteer fireman, Strom Thighhammer has been co-opted by the UK's scientific establishment to be this country's representative at the Large Hard-On Collider on the Swiss/German border.

The scientists felt that this country needed a man of Strom's impressive standing in order to compete with the other countries involved in the vita research at the well-known Porn facility, where the Hard-On Collider is situated.

This vital scientific work has been undertaken in an attempt to understand the true nature of the sex particle, especially the - currently theoretical - Friggs (or 'bouncy bosom') particle that is believed to be responsible for the strong sexual attraction force.

As you are probably aware, the work is carried out in a long circular tunnel underneath the facility. There, dairymaids and cake shop assistants from every country in Europe are made to circle around in this tunnel, with the scientists all eagerly waiting for them to collide with the gentlemen of very good standing who wait in various parts of he tunnel manfully manipulating themselves in order to emit the sexual attractor particles that will pull the ladies towards them.

Once the attractive force between the dairymaids (say) and the gentleman of impressive standing has resulted in a collusion of the sexual organs of the two (or in some situations more than two) participants the scientists at the facility then spend several days minutely examining the pictorial evidence of the collision. The scientists claim they do this in an attempt to locate, identify and isolate the elusive sex particles responsible for the attractive forces that resulted in the collision.

On the Insertion of a Surreptitious Weasel

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 10:55:00 +0000

There has been much debate of late, especially in the snug of The Pervert's Appendage about the best way to instigate the insertion of a surreptitious weasel into the scrum during a deadlocked Inter-Village Orgy League match. Obviously, some form of finesse is necessary in order to introduce the weasel without giving away a free fondle, especially if your goalkeeper has left her box wide open.

Of course, the sudden insertion of a surreptitious weasel into the proceedings was first tried – with great success – during one of the more tedious political debates* in the House of Lords just prior to WWI, when the first Sea Lord had his promulgation perverted by the introduction of the surreptitious weasel by the opposing party.

However, the use of the surreptitious weasel has been a long tradition in the long – and usually quite firm – history of the inter-Village Orgy match. However, with the International form of the Inter-Village Orgy, there was some initial reluctance by some foreign countries to allow the use of the weasel, with Germany being the obvious example.

However, once the German's were allowed the use of sauerkraut and sausages during a free fondle (providing no substitution had taken place), the use of the surreptitious weasel became widely accepted in the game, especially when the goal-botherer was under pressure from the opposition inside-outside wing forward backs at silly mid-on.

*Yes, I'm afraid it is true, it is indeed possible to have some political debates that are even more tedious than the others, even though this does seem to conflict with Einstein's General Theory of Tedium, which states that the universe is always an inherently interesting place, especially when you have mislaid your car keys.

Out and Ready to be Held

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 09:11:00 +0000

Nestled deep in the picturesque valley at the heart of the county of Upper Thyghspreader, Little Frigging in the Wold is just another quiet English rural village. It is a place where the denizens take a quiet pride in the good standing of their local Inter-Village Orgy team, all pulling together to support it in the Inter-Village orgy League and cup as well as its attempts to increase the standing of English village orgy teams in the many European Competitions.

Not only that, everyone in the village always do their best to attend the events in the village hall that do so much to make the residents of such places come together as often as possible in the many village orgies arranged there, or even getting themselves out on the village green for open-air all-village orgies should the weather be suitable.

Furthermore, the new University of Little Frigging (formerly the cow sheds at Trouser-Quandary farm) is regarded as the leading institution in the UK for the study of theoretical and practical orgiastics as well as the study of the perverted arts and sciences, especially the use of the pork pie in an erotic context. All under the expert guidance of the narrator of this splendid tome, Norbert Trouser-Quandary, Master of the Perverted Arts and Sciences and Professor of Theoretical and Applied Orgiastics at the University of Little Frigging in the Wold, who is also a farmer specialising in the husbandry of free-range hairstylists and the breeding for the market of farm-assured lawyers.

For those interested in the use of cream cakes in a village orgy, the use of the village volunteer fireman's chopper, how to butter an assistant librarian, the secret rites of folk singers, the correct way to fondle a post mistress in a formal village orgy setting and much, much, more, this book is the ideal introduction to modern English rural life.

Ready at the Crease

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 11:19:00 +0000

Of course, when in the presence of a brace of dairymaids in a state of near undress you will not – I'm sure – be too concerned about the integrity of your Brussels sprouts, providing you, of course, remember that they should be bowled underarm if the village orgy is taking place indoors.

This, of course, assumes that you have arranged the fielders into the necessary positions and that the dairymaid who is batting has her dildo ready at the crease as you begin your run-up.

Experts are often in conflict about whether or not the Brussels sprouts should be cooked before the innings begins or whether the raw sprout is much better, if only for its aerodynamic properties. It will be up to the umpires to agree amongst themselves on the suitability of the sprouts – whether cooked or raw – and whether they can stand up to the deprecations of the full innings without losing their integrity.

There are those gentlemen bowlers who like to give their sprouts a coating of oil, or even a light vinaigrette dressing before they come out to bowl at the start of the village orgy innings, others claim that it makes their sprouts difficult to get a good grip on the sprouts, and that such an eventuality gives undue advantage to the dairymaids, who – in most cases – prefer to maintain a firm grip, as we all know only too well. Especially those of us who have attempted to get to the tea break sandwiches without first disengaging the grip of the dairymaid, something that can often bring a tear to the eye of the most upstanding of gentlemen.

An Organ of Record

noreply@blogger.com (Norbert Trouser-Quandary) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 11:30:00 +0000

In the current climate with the internet taking over more and more of the news function formerly the province of newspapers, it seems that some local papers are suffering loss of sales, and some are even closing.

However, The Little Frigging in the Wold Gleaner, under the erstwhile editorship of Foaming Lickspittle, has gone from strength to strength. It is his foresight that led to the acquisition of the services of former Inter-Village Orgy star, Sherry Ventilator as the Gleaner’s sports correspondent. This has made the Gleaner the newspaper of choice for anyone in the county of Upper Thyghspreader who takes an interest in the Inter-village Orgy cup and league, as well as magnificent coverage of other rural sports such as Estate Agent Immolation, Wild Accordion hunting, folk singer disambiguation and Ladyfingers-in-the-Bush.

Foaming Lickspittle has also employed Grand Uncle Stagnant to produce, what has now become a must-read, rural life column. What's more, this award-winning column – after some serious negotiations in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage which resulted in all the negotiators unconscious in a heap under the pool table after an exhausting and exhaustive evening of negotiation – has been acquired as an occasional Guest Post at this very blog. The first of which appears sometime in the very near future.

Furthermore The Little Frigging in the Wold Gleaner now sports an essential Perversion of the Week Column written by my very own wife Maureen Trouser-Quandary in which she offers all-comers a chance to peruse her tips.

Not only that each week on page three of The Little Frigging in the Wold Gleaner, there is a full-colour photo-spread featuring the ladies from the cake shop all proudly displaying their baps of the week.

So, make sure that you never miss a copy of this essential read whenever you are in the vicinity of Little Frigging in the Wold.