I shall keep this as clean as I can but it is going to be difficult and so readers of a sexually repressed nature should look away now.
One of three things is happening. Either television advertisers are becoming more subversive (immoral motives among the product pushers? Surely not?), they are becoming more stupid (is that possible?) or I am becoming a sex-obsessed, dirty old man (I know, I know. It has to be the odds-on favourite).
I have found another apparent double entendre-laced advert which has left me asking: "Do they mean what I think they mean?".
Regular sufferers of this blog will recall a raising of the Pither eyebrows when brain-dead Andie McDowall gushed about the barnet colourant which she boasted dyed all types of hair, "even those wirey little ones".
Well, another vacuous TV bint has turned my mind to things pubic. She advertises Iams cat food.......No, it's NOT a pussy reference. Stop racing ahead.
This woman bullshits on and on about how special her fucking cat is and so only the finest mange-ridden, scabby, diseased, minced up carthorse meat will do for him. The fact that the feline fleabag probably spends its evenings chewing up congealed mice, rotting birds and, on occasions, its own shit when it is hungry enough, seems to have escaped her! She concludes by summing up her feelings for this murdering, little bastard with the words: "I don't know what I'd do without my furry alarm clock."
Gratuitous, yes, but very appropriate.
Ok, it probably IS just me, but what exactly is her "furry alarm clock"? I have one which activates at approximately 5am every day - about half an hour before my radio-alarm starts buzzing - and it has done ever since I was about 12. Some times it even wakes me up but, whatever effect it has on my consciousness, ladies of my acquaintance have been particularly fond of it over the years. I have to admit a certain affinity for it myself. One could call it a furry alarm clock. I think of it more as a The Dawn Dirigible. The overall phenomenon is, of course, called Morning Glory. There, I said it.
Ok, I lied about the pussy reference!
Is Catwoman referring to her husband? If so, what has he got to do with her bloody cat? Does she mean her "rabbit" or some kind of fur-coated, battery operated device? It's a similarly meaningless reference, in that case. I assume, obviously, she means that a pussy squatting on her face wakes her up. Well, that would certainly do it for me. Sorry, this is getting unnecessarily pornographic.
No, no, I'm sure it's just me. A product, I'm afraid, of my work. You have to be able to spot potential double entendres in whatever you write and so they teach you very early on "dirty mind, clean copy".
Oh well, if alarm clocks have to be divided into two distinct types, I would rather the people of Grantham have the ones you find in alarm clock shops.
hu huh, huh, hhhh, let that sink in.. huh huhhh hhh
10 hours ago
5 comments:
Don't quite understand the Grantham thing, seeing as I live on the other side of the world, but I'll keep coming back ntill I figure it out.
Cheers,
NYD.
P.S. Myabe Andie McDowell got herself a little terrier and she was talkin bout his little, wirey ones...
Hello NYD, thanks for stopping by at the personal grief hole which is Pither's world.
If you go back to the first post on his blog on November 22, 2006, there is a Grantham for Beginners explanation - written, appropriately enough, in blood red!
As for Andie McBraindead's little wirey ones, the possibility of a dyed dog is interesting.............but I still think she's talking about buffing up her bush!
Keep in touch.
Will do
WHO is that harlot woman touching up her chuff and WHEN did she borrow my cat to pose with her in this tasteless and obscene photograph?
Evelyn Carnate
Independent Retail Strategy Consultant (Ann Summers Industrial Handling Division)
Lower Furtling
Bucks
She is a woman I found in one of my specialist Danish art magazines. Your cat always comes over and stares at me when I plan to visit Jodrel Bank.
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