the last parable

If life teaches anything it's this:
Shut up with the stupid maxims, bon mots, apothegms, pithy sayings etc!

But parables are ok. No. not biblical ones.. they're all superstitious rubbish. But Tgirl parables are wonderfully instructive contructs. They're great if you're having trouble training your man-thing.

Although I'm not the dominant type (in fact my psychiatrist Miss Bramble complains that I'm far too sub) I have an unbearable need to change my rough gruff man-things into meek little kittens. This cannot be achieved in any lasting way by following the physical path. How many times have we read about unfortunate Tgirls attaching nasty weights to their man-things testicles last thing at night only to wake first thing in the morning and find that they've run run run away.

I once knew a Tgurl who every evening forced her fella to lay down on their marital bed while she attached leather cuffs to his ankles and wrists. Then she would fasten him firmly to the bed frame with a intricate series of ropes. Oh, I tried to warn her that he would rebel but she refused to listen. Silly gurl.

The final time I paid them a visit, her botfriend angrily answered the door. He held a big menacing cane in his hand. He led me into the kitchen where I found my poor friend on all fours, attached to the floor. She was wearing some hideous-looking leather harness, gagged and chained up like a mistreated animal. Close by were two bowls - one of dirty water and the other.. urgh.. containing what smelled like cheap cat food. 'Strange', I thought. 'My T-friend is allergic to cats'. Then I figured it out. The food and water were for her!

She looked at up me with pathetic terrified pleading eyes and tried to say something through the gag. I couldn't understand a word but evenso, her once compliant man-thing instantly strode across the room and delivered two or three violently powerful whacks to her bare ass with his cane. I saw her struggle against her bonds but all she could do was wriggle and squeal incomprehensible noises from beneath that ugly gag. Closer inspection revealed a series of metal hooks had been set in the concrete floor. A number of chains ran from the hooks to my friend's harness leaving her unable to move more than a few centimetres in either direction.

I asked her if she was ok and I swear she was about to grunt and snuffle for help when her fella interceded with another loud thwack to her arse. It was anything but playful. He brought the cane high above his head and used all that brute man-thing strength to deliver a shocking blow. My friend was finally silenced but still regarded me with thise stark staring, terrified eyes. Her boyfriend turned to me and angrily said I'd been a bad influence on her. When I asked how long he intended to keep my friend chained up that way a cruel leering smile played across his face. Then he stiffened and told me in the clearest terms to get out and never to return.

I managed one final glance at my friend. Her eyes were filled with unnameable terror. It was like the ending of an old fashioned horror film where we close on the wide horror-filled eyeballs of the evil woman who's been placed in the iron maiden. The door to the dungeon is sealed forever and we realise the evil witch will do her dying slowly, agonisingly.

My friends old life was over. From now on she would pay dearly for abusing her man-thing.

This should make it clear, gurls, why the Lucia parable method is the only one worth using when re-training your fella. T-coded instructions will follow soon... blog this space!!!!

1,001 days to go

The nihilists, soothsayers with socks in their mouths and Millennialists are right - the world really IS gonna end in 1,001 days. That's 1,000 and one days from the time you read this. So if you read this today you can count on the world ending 1,001 days from now. And if you read it tomorrow or next year, then exactly 1,001 days later the world will.. er... end... yeah.

Funny how this thing works. Who'd have thought the 'fin del mundo' would be so bleedin' well subjective.

Now you know that the end is in sight, watcha gonna do all you lovely Tgals and gasping wide-eyed admirers. Might I hazard a few guesses?

First, all Tgirls (that includes YOU) are going to drop off your entire stash of girlie things at the nearest charity shop. Then. you'll apply fast acting hair tonic to face and chin. Within a few hours all Tgirls will be easily spotted. You'll be the ones stepping on your beards as you walk, Rasputin-like, to take your place on the number 3 bus to nowheresville.

Second, all admirers must abandon their manly ways. Make your way (this means YOU) to the nearest depillation clinic and undergo permanent laser hair removal including the soles of your feet. Next, burst into your local chemist and, after waving a big doner kebab knife in the air, emerge with enough female hormones to give a battleship mammary glands. Finally, breasts heaving and jiggling in your wet T-shirt (it always rains on a Tuesday) lunge into your local charity shop. There, miraculously, you'll find suitable female clothing in abundance - size seventeen court shoes, XL sexi-see-through lingerie, size 34 dresses and a skimpy Sloggi that will come in useful for bundling your pencils together.

Right, everybody! We're almost ready for the end of days. One last preparatory act to set in motion. Sell everything - houses, cars, diamante earplugs, labradors, broken Wii, blue ray digital big business theft module... the LOT!! Cash it all in and empty out the bank. Now, pile all that cash in a big cash pile. Pick up that box of Swan TransVesta matches. Remember... if your resolve falters, steel yourself....only 1,001 days to go. All set? Good. Set fire to the money and blow blow blow 'till it's reduced to a crispy blackened heap. Only don't do it on a Tuesday, It always rains on a Tuesday.....