Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Warning: It Goes South VERY Quickly

Last night was Pancake Night in our fabulous swankyLondonBridgePad, and yes, we are gleefully aware that this occurred on the first day of Lent. But we feel it's our duty as 'hell-bent sodomites' to cock a snook at those daffy Christians who follow the Bible to the letter and want to see us burning in hell. So there was tossing a-plenty from comedy housemate Jay, and even our holy water bottle in the shape of the Virgin Mary - filled with Jif Lemon, naturally - made an appearance. Larks!

And all this consumed in front of Desperate Housewives, just to top it off. Wasn't it just marvellous? We almost dropped our Cranberry-and-Catholic pancake laughing at darling Bree lasciviously describing the literal 'ins-and-outs' of sex with a man. But now just as hilarious to watch is the adverts surrounding The Gay's Favourite Programme - why, what could be more thrilling than three minutes of hair commercials squeezed next to an unsubtle ad for KY Jelly.

Yes, the KY Jelly. The 'sexual lubricant' for women 'past a certain age'... and for Gentlemen Who Can't Catch, we suppose. But this advert was a milestone, a turning point in faux-fanny batter. For this introduced the public-at-large to the innovative 'KY Warm', a lubricant that promised to give a slidy ride - as well as a gentle 'warm' feeling to your lip-sink.

But, wait. A 'gentle, warm feeling'? What kind of a message is this soft-focus ad trying to get across? We at Glitter for Brains can only wonder:

'CLOPPER LIKE AN ICE-BOX?
'FANNY AS FRIGID AS YOU ARE?
'SLATHER THIS ON YOUR ARID LADY-GARDEN AND THAW OUT THAT TUPPENCE IN NO TIME!'

And, thanks to the knowing look of the gentleman in the background of the ad, it seems that it worked for him too. Though we're not sure of his 'relationship' with the beaming lady who's suddenly able to fry eggs on her flange, but the important thing is, he's not sitting down. That's all we'll say.

Now, not wanting to miss out on this startling modernism, we did swing by the chemists this morning for a tube, as well as some cold tablets (well, if one is acting ill, one must have the right props). Unfortunately, we were accosted by the stalwart of British chemists - The Old Lady Who Works There In The Week. Every chemist has one; some acid-faced old trout who tuts and shuffles around the medicines like you're holding her to ransom with your request. Just how off-putting is it trying to merrily order some 'KY Warm, please!' from a woman with a face so sour the 'pH neutral' soaps have started turning blue?

Still, you must feel sorry for her, How would you feel having to dole out dobbers to all and sundry, while you haven't had anything up you since decimalisation? So we bought two tubes - and left the other for her with smile and a knowing wink.

It's gonna be a hot time in the ol' town tonight!

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