While I've been sitting around waiting for my helmet to recouperate, I've been writing on Unencyclopedia again. Here's me latest endeavour:
(The Farmer's Wife's Got A Four Inch Crack In Her, But She Ain't) Broken
Geoff's Blog: Keeping it up on a Wurzels basis
Geoff Prickett (It's pronounced Prickett)
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Monday, 22 September 2008
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Ain't That A Kick In The Helmet?
Oh! There's good reason why I have been unable to blog this past few days and why the recording of my latest podcast has been postponed in a temporary fashion?
Well, I'll tell you - And I'm not ashamed to admit it. There is absolutely no embarrassment factor here as far as the Geoff is concerned. None at all. Honestly.
No shame.
Not bothered at all and not worried about what people might think, even though the sterling staff in the A & E department at St Thomas' Hospital found my condition hilarious and will no doubt be beating each other with shitty sticks in order to gain the 2008 Christmas party anecdotal rights.
Here goes ...
During a paid prostitutional session with one of my regular clients - a lovely lass, 46 years old, recently divorced, face like a blistered pisspot, but richer than King Midas and a body to match - became sexually over-exuberant during a lengthy penis/mouth interface and took for herself a large bite to my penile headpiece.
I was rolling around, groaning, sweating ... crying. It was only until she noticed the blood that she knew anything was wrong. Indeed, she assumed my agonised convultions were simply me experiencing an incredible orgasm. It's no picnic having yer purple Lord Vader chomped on, I can tell you. We quickly recovered the missing section of helmet (it had tumbled under the bedside table) and in hindsight, I was particularly disturbed to note that the cleaning staff of this pricey and rather well-known London hotel are quite lax in their cleaning routine. The piece of my piece was covered in dust.
We quickly cabbed ourselves to the hospital (during which time, the driver could not stop laughing) and the separated part was re-attached to it's rightful home. My helmet is now sporting a raised scar that when healed will serve as my very own 'ribbed for her pleasure' device. Of course, I can't even think about having sex again for at least 3 to 4 months. Actually, when I do think about it, the penile arousal that ensues causes unbeliveable agony. So much so that I have had to cancel half of my Sky channels for fear of a nasty genital split.
The last time I endured similar pain was when I was 19. I was naked and about to enjoy a shower when I picked up a metal coat hanger with the hook facing upwards and managed to gouge my ballsack. But that's a story for another time.
I went into the studio with paper thin walls yesterday (with interruptions from the actors next door reciting Shakespeare) and laid down my 3rd podcast (which will be released shortly) in dire pain. Have sympathy and please ... no jokes.
Geoff's Blog: Keeping it up on a bitten off more than she could chew basis.
Geoff Prickett (It's pronounced Prickett)
X
Well, I'll tell you - And I'm not ashamed to admit it. There is absolutely no embarrassment factor here as far as the Geoff is concerned. None at all. Honestly.
No shame.
Not bothered at all and not worried about what people might think, even though the sterling staff in the A & E department at St Thomas' Hospital found my condition hilarious and will no doubt be beating each other with shitty sticks in order to gain the 2008 Christmas party anecdotal rights.
Here goes ...
During a paid prostitutional session with one of my regular clients - a lovely lass, 46 years old, recently divorced, face like a blistered pisspot, but richer than King Midas and a body to match - became sexually over-exuberant during a lengthy penis/mouth interface and took for herself a large bite to my penile headpiece.
I was rolling around, groaning, sweating ... crying. It was only until she noticed the blood that she knew anything was wrong. Indeed, she assumed my agonised convultions were simply me experiencing an incredible orgasm. It's no picnic having yer purple Lord Vader chomped on, I can tell you. We quickly recovered the missing section of helmet (it had tumbled under the bedside table) and in hindsight, I was particularly disturbed to note that the cleaning staff of this pricey and rather well-known London hotel are quite lax in their cleaning routine. The piece of my piece was covered in dust.
We quickly cabbed ourselves to the hospital (during which time, the driver could not stop laughing) and the separated part was re-attached to it's rightful home. My helmet is now sporting a raised scar that when healed will serve as my very own 'ribbed for her pleasure' device. Of course, I can't even think about having sex again for at least 3 to 4 months. Actually, when I do think about it, the penile arousal that ensues causes unbeliveable agony. So much so that I have had to cancel half of my Sky channels for fear of a nasty genital split.
The last time I endured similar pain was when I was 19. I was naked and about to enjoy a shower when I picked up a metal coat hanger with the hook facing upwards and managed to gouge my ballsack. But that's a story for another time.
I went into the studio with paper thin walls yesterday (with interruptions from the actors next door reciting Shakespeare) and laid down my 3rd podcast (which will be released shortly) in dire pain. Have sympathy and please ... no jokes.
Geoff's Blog: Keeping it up on a bitten off more than she could chew basis.
Geoff Prickett (It's pronounced Prickett)
X
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