» Cougars and Sugar Daddies

For a second there I saw a lifetime of therapy stretching ahead of me ...
I like older men, I just always have - but only once have I feared this would end up with me sobbing on Jerry Springer (this was pre Jeremy Kyle). So, let me set the scene:

* wavy lines, taking you back to around 2001 and a fresh-faced, if not entirely naive, 21-year-old Peng*

I know I'm not alone on B3ta in admitting I have a big thing for BDSM ... and back when I was in my early 20s I was becoming acutely aware of the fact.

At that time I met a lovely 41-year-old man. After we'd both thrown a few almost innocent references into the conversation it emerged he was rather experienced. We talked frankly, he offered advice and we exchanged ideas on the pscyhology behind our desires (by this time I was rather well versed in the theory of it all, just hankering after some practical!).

He made it clear he was attracted, but happy to act as a friend and offer guidance, I was increasingly drawn to his quiet confidence, intelligence and charm. So, we arranged to meet up again, just the two of us ...

I'm going to leave out all the filthy details of what followed I'm afraid, but we became a couple over the next few months - his friends impressed by his turning up with someone young enough to be his daughter, mine a little confused, but accepting.

A great time was had by all ..... until one evening we were chatting about family, history etc. It emerged that I was adopted as a baby ... he went quiet, got a strange look about him.

He then told me that he had had a daughter when he was young and (military background) based very near where I was from.

There was probably only about 25 seconds between that point and us establishing, from a few basic facts, that there was no way it was me (over a year out and I was actually born somewhere else). But those 25 seconds of "ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather, ohmygodi'mfuckingmyfather" will haunt me forever.

I think that took the shine off of that particular relationship and it ended pretty soon after - but it did open the door to a perverted wonderland, so no regrets!

Length? It was juuuust right!
(Sun 7th Dec 2008, 21:36, More)

» Eccentrics

Never Mind ... Soon be Christmas!
Anyone who spent much time in or around Winchester prior to December '06 would probably be aware of Ron Purse, Winchester's famous burping tramp.

Looking akin to Only Fools And Horses' Uncle Albert and smelling like evil on toast, Ron would while away his days pushing his push-chair filled with gnarly old cuddly toys and other filthy goodies from one end of the town to the other.

If you happened to catch his attention you would either be treated to an immense (and pungent) belch to the face or some form of platitude - usually "nevermind, soon be Christmas". If you were truly blessed you would receive both!

During the annual Hat Fair (festival of street theatre etc) he would decorate his push-chair beautifully, although admittedly with shit he had found in the gutter, and go around giving out syphilitic looking cuddly toys to the children.

Rumour has it that Terry Pratchett's character "Foul Ole Ron" was based on him, which seems plausible given the size of Ron's local celebrity and the fact that Mr Pratchett is from round these parts ... I've just been told they used to drink in the same pub (The Mash Tun if any of you know it, now another bloody tapas bar).

Ron died in December 2006 and Winchester is just not the same without him. Think about it, it takes quite a man to arouse affection by belching in your face.

Apologies for lack of punchline ... RIP Ron.
(Fri 31st Oct 2008, 14:24, More)

» Anonymous

Office shenanigans
I am thrilled to say I am no longer office based. After 3 years with my previous employer I was running the risk of going postal. I had already composed a mental list of those who should die first, the guy who used to eat as his desk every day and sprayed food around him in a 6ft radius was top of the list. So, office pranks became a way of alleviating the boredom just enough to prevent the slaughter.

For some reason Tom Baker was the voice of the BT text message reader service at that time, so we sent a message to the slightly odd guy who worked at the other end of the office and was VERY into his sci-fi. I can't remember precisely, but it said something along the lines of: "Steve, this is the Doctor. The daleks are coming for you. If you want to save yourself, turn off your computer and leave the building calmly."

We were expecting a bit of a chuckle and the accusations to start flying - if he'd stayed on the phone it would even have read him my mobile number - but instead he put the phone down, looking slightly alarmed and carried on working, without saying a word to anyone for the rest of the day. I almost feel guilty. Almost.

I work from home a lot now and have to resort to tormenting the cats with laser pointers. Although I'd like to think they don't know it's me, I'm certain they just humour me now.
(Thu 14th Jan 2010, 12:57, More)

» Tightwads

Grand Theft Auto
I've wasted countless hours watching him indoors playing this.

Every time he visits the hookers he beats them to death/runs them over and steals his money back.

I'm not sure this defines him a "tightwad" but I think perhaps it should be setting a few alarm bells ringing ...
(Tue 28th Oct 2008, 12:33, More)

» Pubs

Fawcett Inn
I used to live down the road from the Fawcett Inn in Portsmouth.

Pick your own punchline, I'm too tired.

_{For the record, I've since moved and live somewhere nice now, where the pubs are pleasantly named and full of socially acceptable nutters.}
(Tue 10th Feb 2009, 21:04, More)