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

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Pavlov's Dog

So every morning, I happen to walk past a fire station. A red-brick monument to testosterone mystery.

There's something just so... alien, so arousing and masculine about it. As a filthy Gentleman Who Was Gutted Brokeback Mountain Didn't Win Best Movie Oscar, it's a fair bet that I'll never set foot in this hallowed hall of heterosexuality. And thinking about what possibly could go on in there leaves one weak at the knees.

I wonder whether it's a genetic thing: my dear mother's got a little thing for firemen. To the extent where she's got a map in the garage rating all of the stations in the area. "I tell you, Lee," she said, forth Kia Royale clutched to her busom, "You don't want Walsall firemen rescuing you. Bunch of rangy old dogs. No, Bloxwich firemen is what you want sliding down your pole..."

I left the matter as to whether she was being filthy. You could never tell with her.

After she'd split up with my father she happened to bang her wedding ring and had to have it cut off. Whether it was on purpose or no is still a matter of contention at family picnics, but despite being in complete agony, announced that she was to be driven twice the distance to the Bloxwich station to be dealt with by the officers there.

Even if it wasn't an accident, it was deliciously symbolic.

Anyway, back to me, each morning wandering past the fire station. It's silly to believe they're all in there, touching each other inappropriately to a heavy porno soundtrack, no matter what that scholarly documentary 'Firemen Anal' says. I've seen some of the men that come out of there. Chiselled Adonises the lot of them, nipping over the road for a quick packet of fags before ducking back in for topless horseplay with their colleagues, soaping each other down as they wash the charred fire engine. I'd imagine.

So each morning I wander past, hoping against hope that I suffer some minor injury like a bee sting or a snapped heel, and my Penelope Pitstop-esque "Hey-alp!" attracts all of the soapy firemen out into the street to tend to me, just so I can get brought inside and find out what happens to them, and to me.

But the reason why I bring all this up? I walked past this morning to hear a pumping techno porno soundtrack being played rather loudly out of their gymnasium shower block.


(blink blink)

All together now, "Hey-alp!"


klee said...

I frequently employ the 'Hey-alp' in times of distress or (occasionally) the raging horn. Usually it nets me dwarves.

Let this be a lesson to you: the Ant Hill Mob are not sexy, unless you have a garden gnome fetish.

Snooze said...

More like, Day-um. where was your camera?

St. Dickeybird said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
St. Dickeybird said...

In my downtown apartment, people were constantly pulling the fire alarm.
It was entertaining to watch us all preening ourselves trying to impress the uncomfortable-looking firemen

And hell yes.


Rob said...

Heh. I've continuously referred to the two types of firemen as "Bloxwich" and "Walsall" ever since your mother first put forward the distinction.

Trouble is no-one ever understands what the hell I'm on about.

Lee said...

Well, now they do!

Tickersoid said...

We used to have a guy at work, who should have been a fireman. You know, not interrested in the mundane work but was 'up' for the dangerous stuff the rest of us avoioded. He was 6ft tall well built and had the nick name 'biggus dickus'. I noticed he used to spend alot of time perusing the photos in his body builder mag's. Eventually got sacked for some indiscretion or such.

Jaclyn said...

I had the pleasure of going on a date with a fireman once. He was a very good kisser and such a gentleman.

Dated high school crush - CHECK
Went to college in NY - CHECK
Went out with a fireman - CHECK
Drugged Colin Farrell and took total advantage of him - ......

CyberPete said...


Anonymous said...

Yay! Your link works again! Hello!
Strangely enough, despite being a straight woman, I have the same fantasies about firestations and fireman that you do Lee *winks*

Jemima said...

I never suspected there could be so much sordid fun behind those red doors.

morgalou said...

Mmmmmmm. Firemen.

Sorry, what were we saying?

Inexplicable DeVice said...

Can't stop now. House is burning to the ground and I'm waiting patiently for my imminent rescue.

Shit. It's getting a bit hot in here.

Oh. I forgot to call the fire brigade and now my phone's melted.


First Nations said...

yummy firemen.
delicious firemen.
hairy, brawny firemen.
i like firemen.
yes i do.

CyberPete said...

Is that a haiku there first nations? Very nice, I approve!

tornwordo said...

I'll never look at a firehouse the same way.

mainja said...

yum. yum yum yum. yum.

Charlee Brown said...

I happen to have access to a 1916 Fireengine, and all the appropriate regalia. I also have lots of photos, including one of a naked fireman on her, but trust, you do not wish to see that!