I *heart* Jo Wheeler

Today I met Bogdan for a smoke of weed in the park. He was telling me about how last Saturday night he met this fat girl in the Slimeshite (Limelight) who he took back to his smelly pad to buck. I asked him how fat was fat –
“She was fat as fuck,” he told me. Fat As Fuck. I’m not exaggerating. If I told you she was 27 stone I wouldn’t be far off. She'd an arse like a peninsula.”
“That’s a new one,” I offered.
“Yes. She was enormous. Surface area of about 5 and a half foot. And wouldn’t you know? I went down on her. Her insides were very spacious, I went down to her fanny, and took a look, and it was like staring through a window into a big mansion.”
“My goodness!”
“I started to worry that I should’ve brought distress flares. After finishin’ on her flares are the only way they’d find me again.”

It was my turn to talk about sex then, and I told Bogdan how I was getting fed up of Kimba and all her funny notions about witchcraft and dark side people and light workers. I told about how it takes nearly all night to fuck her with all her weird tantric rituals and warm ups etc. when all I wanted to do was bust a nut. Plus it meant I missed all my programmes like Coronation Street and Lesser Spotted Ulster with sad sack Joe Mehan.

Secretly, because I kept it to myself and didn’t even mention it to Bogdan, my emotional passionlust toward a certain Sky News weather girl has been reignited somehow. Her name is Jo Wheeler. She ticks all my boxes. She is older, around 45 (my cut off point – like the last day you could eat a bit of fruit), and has the sexiest smokiest eyes to ever kindle within a human skull. She is to eyes what Julie London is to vocal chords. Monochrome erotically evaporating perspiration, my girl. And I mean monochrome like a verb........(ignore little gimp if ad comes up)

I am thinking of writing to her again. I’d tell her I agonisingly yearn to sink my face into her slightly wrinkled cleavage. I’d describe how I’d like to spurt reams of cum in between her freckled brown tits and how I’d like to watch my spermatozoa run along that slightly wrinkled cleavage like many milky rivulets – the milk squeezed from the golden udder of a Hindu cow deity that floats around in the sky.

Then again, on second thoughts, when I wrote a letter to her a couple of years ago, when I was annoyed she’d got a new hairdo (reprinted below)

“Dear Jo,

I would like to ask you: ‘what were you thinking?’ when you asked Stacey/Chanelle the hairdresser to sculpt such an abortion of a haircut upon your skull. I am very angry. Till your beautiful natural auburn hair grows back I would like you to wear a wig. If you do not I will kill your family! Only joking ;). Love ya doll!

Your Playboy Lover,

Danny Pongo xx”

the Sky News computer security goons sent me a very terse email back insisting I ‘desist from my correspondence with Jo Wheeler’ or ‘the proper authorities would be notified.’

Bogdan tells me not to give it up with Kimba. He says, “Once you throw it away, away can’t throw it back...” I don’t like Bogdan’s glib philosophy. It too accessible.

Here is the gorgeous Julie London: