Embarrassing loss of ability to spell “erect” leads to location of foreskin troubled man who, likewise, cannot spell “erect”

DO NOT ATTEMPT INTERCOURSE WITH THIS MAN. He has a permanently moist penis and is not sure whether he is erect or errect when thrusting for bout 5 mins.

hi i cant pull my foreskin back when i am not erect unless my penis is moist when i do it dose not roll back to normal on its own the problem is even worse when i am errect i cant pull it back at all and when i have sex i can feel it beeing pulled back as i thrust i have to thrust very slow for bout 5 mins b4 it is pulled back then when i pull it out the skin will not roll back up i have to pull it up it takes 4eva goin to docs tommro real embaresed bout it but think i wud rather get circumcised but there are so many types of circumcised penis what will i get on the nhs

Ladies’ Carriages

In most countries the scourge (in this case gropers and perverts) would be dealt with.

In Japan the potential victims are dealt with, or rather removed, and kept beast-like in the cage marked “Ladies Carriage. From the first train until 9am and from 5pm until 9pm this carriage is only for the use of females.” Perhaps this keeps the chikan and sukebe under control but why not just deal with the bloody chikan and sukebe rather than force women - who want to arrive at work without undergoing the slim, but significant, risk of having an erect penis thrust against your arse or a hand against your vagina in the crush – to endure a whole carriage full of clashing perfume, stiletto trammelling on peep-toe and fake Louis Vuitton thrust into your vagina in the crush.

An eighteen year old arrived at my previous job, a College of marginally Higher Education with some semen down the back of her coat. A gallant male colleague spotted it and wiped it off telling her that a bird must’ve crapped on her. Yes, the problem of train pervs does exist in Japan, but that hasn’t stopped it being exploited by some for financial gain. The whisper of “I’ll announce to the whole carriage that you just touched me unless you give me \20,000” has many a middle-aged man clutching the hanging straps with both hands in a “Look all, my hands are here and nowhere near the school girls” desperate gesture.

My favourite? When a last second leaper realizes to his horror that he has trespassed into the female preserve and watches despairingly as the doors slide together and he is trapped in the glare of fifty (Fifty what? Homogenists? Why isn’t there a clear antonym of misogynist?) Fifty pairs of female eyes that, for the two minute ride to the next station and freedom, direct all wrath at being stuck in this bloody oestrogen hell-hole in his hapless direction.

Saw Smog and Joanna Newsom behind some twenty foot instestines last weekend

OK...the venue. Probably the worst venue I've ever been to to see a band. Capacity was limited to 150 but 300 could have easily have fitted in but for the "art" installations. Right in front of the playing area was a massive white semi-inflated plastic thing that resembled the intestines of a Diplodocus or its discarded condom. Over this was a big white balloon that was floating above a fan and under a spinning stick. Other objects d'art included two ripped sofas, a crate suspended from the ceiling and other spinning sticks. The most irritating thing was this wire and light contraption that kept been unravelled to its full length and then coiled up ad infinitum. The audience was shooed upstairs and huddled together so that only the front row (who were dangling their feet over the edge) could see anything. Mick and I soon decided that the decorations were a load of shite and I decided that our absent friend Scott would have liked them.

Did I mention that the venue didn't sell ANY kind of drink?

The support consisted of this Japanese woman playing some kind of electric organ (I'm guessing as I couldn't see it) and accompanying it with lyrics such as " da da da da da" "ha wooo woooo hahaha" "doko ni iku doko ni iku doko ni iku." One song consisted just of "Lucifer" being said repeatedly. I was imaging someone else coming on and striking one note of a Ralph Harris stylophone, when Mick said that it was "too much like parody to be taken seriously. " I decided Scott would have liked her.

After the performers and crew were cruelly sipping beer under the wistful looks of a thirsty audience, Smog was up first. He was good, of course, but didn't play that long a set to be honest. I was getting back pains from leaning in a weird angle so I tried to find a better place. After crushing some poor blokes hand with my pink ballet pump, I found a good spot, only to be interrupted by the constant coming and going of the wire appliance. Every minute or so lights were blinding me or wires were crossing my line of vision. I ended up standing half way up the stairs and hanging over the balcony.

So to Joanna. She was a vision in a black dress, black leggings with skeleton bones up and down the back and hair hanging loose down to her waist. Unfortunately, she made the fashion error of pairing black trousers with brown shoes, so only scored 7.5 from me. I had the same viewing problem as before. By now, some people had rebelled and were standing down stairs so I attempted to join them. There was certainly more atmosphere, but the balloon kept making its circuit and after about 5 minutes of watching half a harp and a big balloon, I went back up stairs.

She played for a long time and was accompanied by 2 blokes intermittently strumming, tapping, crooning or just sitting. I was quite surprised in that I really enjoyed her compared to the last time I saw her. She was less manic and her voice seemed a whole octave lower. Mick's synopsis was "She's certainly grown in confidence and the new music showed a greater range and depth. She is tighter both musically and vocally and there weren't any of those straggling songs that don't go any where. All in all, a very solid, impressive performance." I summed it up as "less squawky."

Why am I doing this?

Not sure really. To assuage the constant chattering and tangents that plague my mind? To mitigate the guilt of six year's worth of scant contact with friends? To allay the fear that I can't actually follow something through to fruition?

Because I have some misguided thought that I might be interesting? Because I have some ill-conceived idea that I can actually placate the friends I've alienated by incessant waffle? Because I'm a prat?

Well, probably all of the above.