Author Topic: A Faecal Problem  (Read 3431 times)

A Faecal Problem
« on: October 27, 2006, 04:32:37 PM »
Dear Aubrey,

I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy problem-solving time to help me with my own...

Yesterday, a rather embarassing moment occured at work. While talking to a fetching lass I've had my eye on for some time, I decided to impress her with a feat I had been planning for a while. There is another man working alongside us, and has an 'alpha-male' aura around him. If he partook in my darling's affection, I would be somewhat dismayed. So I proceeded to jump onto his desk, pull down my trousers, and excrete faecal matter all over his work. I had been eating particularly rich food over the last days, so as a result, when I proceeded to shove his buck-toothed gyppo face in my own dirt, he bemoaned that his favourite shirt would have to be thrown away. Regardless, I was happy, he was not, and the damsel I wanted to express my cock love to put on a strained smile.

Aubrey, the question I'd like to ask is "Has this strained the working relationship between the three of us? And if so, is there any way of winning your affections by excreting my dirty dirt over your enemies?"

Yours,
Barrington.

Aubrey Barkus

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Re: A Faecal Problem
« Reply #1 on: October 27, 2006, 05:18:06 PM »
Quote from: "Rovis Teffyd"
Dear Aubrey,

I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy problem-solving time to help me with my own...

Yesterday, a rather embarassing moment occured at work. While talking to a fetching lass I've had my eye on for some time, I decided to impress her with a feat I had been planning for a while. There is another man working alongside us, and has an 'alpha-male' aura around him. If he partook in my darling's affection, I would be somewhat dismayed. So I proceeded to jump onto his desk, pull down my trousers, and excrete faecal matter all over his work. I had been eating particularly rich food over the last days, so as a result, when I proceeded to shove his buck-toothed gyppo face in my own dirt, he bemoaned that his favourite shirt would have to be thrown away. Regardless, I was happy, he was not, and the damsel I wanted to express my cock love to put on a strained smile.

Aubrey, the question I'd like to ask is "Has this strained the working relationship between the three of us? And if so, is there any way of winning your affections by excreting my dirty dirt over your enemies?"

Yours,
Barrington.


I like the cut of your jib!

Do you think you could perform your faecal acrobatics on the following:
-The snooty Antipodean midget child with the low cut jeans and peeping pudenda in Richmond All Bar One (you know, just up from the post office) who refused to serve me because I was "Too Old" and "Wouldn't fit in, Grandad."
-The wide faced rugby boy with the comedy watch in Threshers.
-Whoever it was who in 1980 decided the dressing demands of Rattigan's "Separate Tables" were beyond the scope of my abilities (some research needed here, admittedly.)
-Terry Nutkins.

As for the woman of your dreams, now she's witnessed you throw your lunch down your legs I'm not so sure she will be so easy to win.  "Faint Heart never won Fair lady" sang Lord Mount in Iolanthe, but I don't think "look what's been in my tummy!" was at the very heart of his calculations.  I think you need to try something else. Something more traditional.  Flowers, the cinema, Rohypnol.  Have  fun!

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