The Dead Synapses Society

Isle of Wight breaking news, Government officials have announced that the historic Isle of Wight town of Shanklin has been selected as Britain’s first set-aside town. During the next six months the municipality and surrounding villages will be evacuated, businesses will be closed and utilities will be cut off. The area will then be left to lie fallow for a two year period.

The Set-aside policy has its origins as an old farming method where a field is left unused, or fallow, for a period of time to allow the soil to replenish nutrients and thus remain fertile for the next phase of crop rotation. In 2008 a government think-tank hit upon the idea of using this technique to revitalise parts of the country during recession.

‘Look this is a radical new form of urban regeneration,’ explained a Whitehall spokesman. ‘Once Shanklin has been set-aside, the area will no longer be subjected to the every-day wear and tear that afflicts other urban areas. There will be no demand for precious fuel resources, traffic congestion will ease and housing problems will be non-existent. In short the town will have time to draw its breath.’

Even now purpose-built camps are being built in disused airfields across the country to house the residents of Shanklin, where they will be provided with food and water for six weeks before ‘making their own arrangements’. Opposition to the scheme has been surprisingly muted although under new legislation, Shanklin’s dispossessed lose their citizenship during the fallow period, so the town’s population are not eligible to take part in national politics.

But one visitor to Shanklin found it very unsettling; ‘It is like a ghost town. Nobody on the streets, all the shops shut; nothing happening anywhere,’ he reported, unaware that the scheme hasn’t actually started yet.

Premiership side Stoke City and Championship side Sheffield United, are to be the first two teams to be prosecuted by the Football Association under the controversial 2008 Cruelty To Football Act, after their performances so far this season.

The two, who had already contrived to kill football after the FA witnessed both clubs stubbornly refusing fans' requests to show enthusiasm for the game, and throttled all signs of life out of it, forcing many to walk out at halftime, and to go home for a cup of cocoa.

Many supporters claimed that their team where just not trying!

Blades' fan Ernie Gambit, 13, who had travelled more than 100 miles to see his team, moaned:

"It was a disgrace what they did to us, I was so ashamed of myself for just sitting there and doing nothing. Never, in all my years as a fan, have I seen anything so cruel."

And Stoke fans weren't any happier. Alfie Dour, said:

"The poor game was on its last legs, but the team kept on kicking it whilst it was down. It was shameful. They ought to be prosecuted for cruelty to football."

It was this latest remark that prompted the FA to act. A statement on the FA web-site explained:

"The facts are that if teams are going to meander through games like these two have done, the FA will have to step in. Football is all about putting effort into every game, not just World Cup Finals. Wet Tuesday nights and long trips to Plymouth and Carlisle are all part and parcel of the game."

Anthony Dogwood, of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Football (RSPCF), said:

"Look Football's for life, not just for Christmas, and after Fulham’s performance against Man U last night, they too should be worried!"

100’s of Thousands of train passengers across Great Britain were inconvenienced today when trains operated as normal. It seems that a small number of engineering works finished on time, forcing commuters to use cramped rail services rather than cramped replacement bus services.

Coventry commuter Colin Jacks said, "I didn't mind being delayed two hours every day and having to use a smelly old bus, It made a change from the smelly old train. Plus I got to see some different places. Broke things up a bit, like."

Meanwhile passengers in Kent were forced onto overcrowded trains, some of which ran less than 15 minutes late! Similar situations occurred in Yorkshire, albeit with much older and slower trains.

A spokesperson for Network Rail apologised for the state of Britain's railways. "It's unacceptable, we accept that. The critical issue is the longstanding tradition of crapness, cockups and incompetence. It does take time to reverse all that, but at the moment we're not sure which direction we're going in, and we may not be moving at all much like a lot of the trains on our network."

However rail operators have promised to compensate passengers affected by the normal service of Britain's railways, such as if their journey has been delayed or cancelled, by vastly increasing fares.

The wedding reception was going down a storm and we had reached the awkward stage of the wedding reception. The bit between the meal and the evening do when you’ve identified whom is worth speaking to and latched onto them for the day.

Skip forward to the end of the evening and you’ll be exchanging numbers and swearing to keep in touch with your new best friends forever. You won’t though. You know that at the time, but you still go through the process. It’s the done thing.

I was with my girl fiend in the lounge bar of the hotel and we’d got talking to this couple called Belinda and Liam. We’d done all the usual conversation bollocks about how lucky the newlyweds had been with the weather (and hats and jobs) when Samantha and Belinda buggered off for a group visit to the toilet, as women do.
It was then that Liam made his suggestion.

Liam seemed a great guy; we had a lot in common. Not just physical similarities either both six-foot tall with long, shaggy, rock star hair but in our attitudes to life. If there’s something to be done, do it to excess. “Fuck moderation,” was how Liam put it. We’d also both reached that stage of our relationships where we’d entered into same sex relationships, “Don’t Panic!” by which I mean that sex was always the same. You had a routine: Feel this…twiddle that…twaddle the other...flick something else…have that pulled…pump, pump, pump for a while…and then:
“Oh baby, I’m coming. I’m coming.”
“Yes I know you are; I can feel your buttocks tensing up. You don’t have to announce it every time; it makes me wonder if you want me as a sexual partner or as a witness.”

After all these things happen. Go out with someone for long enough and sex turns into any other habitual chore; like going to work, or mowing the lawn only grass doesn't criticise your technique or get a headache just as you're about to take the top off it.

Liam’s suggestion was pretty outrageous. Normally, if someone you’ve just met asks to fuck your girl you’d hit him. But there was something about Liam. Or maybe it was the something about Belinda that made the idea of a woman-swap so tempting. This wasn’t just any old woman-swapping deal either; Liam was proposing doing it and not telling the women.

“Won’t that be a little tricky…bearing in mind neither Belinda or Sam are blind?” I asked.
“Nope. I’ve got this mate who did it once and neither women had a clue.”
“Oh come on, that’s bollocks," I objected. "They’d spot the difference in cock and action.”
“Look, most cocks when pumped up to shagging pressure are roughly the same size, give or take the odd imperceptible centimetre. And as for the action, well that’s just a case of good planning. Most couples establish a sexual routine after a while, that’s why sex gets so boring.”
“True," I admitted.
“So really it’s just a case of learning the routine and sticking to it,” added Liam.
“Okay. What about the fact they’ll recognise us?”

“Not in the dark they won’t. This is one of those hotels with those heavy curtains that make the rooms pitch black so people can get some decent shut-eye at any time of the day. And besides, Belinda likes it from behind. Bosh…bosh...bosh…so she won’t see your ugly face.”

Liam’s explanation was interrupted by the return of our girls.
“You two look like you’ve been caught with your trousers down in a lap-dancing club!” said Samantha, sweeping us with a painfully perceptive glance. “We’re going through. The disco’s about to start and we don’t want to miss the first dance.” And off we went, plan hatched and developing disgracefully in my head. Liam continued to expand on his idea as the newlyweds self-consciously span round the dance floor to the sickly strains of ‘Everything I Do I Do It For You’. It was that time of the day, as I said, when events start to get boring.
Me, I was just about to get deep, down and extremely dirty.

Looking at Belinda across the table, her firm tits struggling to escape from her skin-tight top with her ‘that’ll do nicely’ smile, made Liam’s plan seem more attractive. I started to picture it. Picture me doing her doggie-fashion whilst slapping her lovely arse. Apparently that’s what made her come quickest. And making her come was part of the plan. Liam seemed more than willing to tell me what Belinda liked and how she liked it. Perhaps if I hadn’t had so much to drink all the intimate details that leaked from his mouth would’ve made me uncomfortable. When he finished describing their intimate shagging pattern in graphic detail he asked if I thought it was a technique I could successfully copy.

“Yeah, pretty much; one thing though, doesn’t she get bored?”
“Bored? Why so?” he asked.
“Well you do seem to go on for an awfully long time. If I took such a leisurely approach with Sam she’d probably nod off half way through.”

“No. Believe me when I say; Belinda does not get bored. I take it you’re more of a wham-bam-thank-you-Sam merchant, Stan?”

“Well yes, I suppose I am. But believe me when I say Sam doesn't get bored either. I once fucked her so well she started crying. At least I think that’s why she was crying.”

Then it was my turn to tell Liam the intimate and well-worn sexual routine I had practised for the last seven years. I have to say that, despite not being embarrassed listening to Liam describe his stroke-by-stroke method, I did feel horribly conscious being so frank about mine. It didn’t help that he kept bursting into laughter every time I revealed another of my lovemaking tricks. I mean, hasn't everyone stuffed a pair of used women’s panties into their mouth?

Confidential details exchanged, we formulated the practical side of the plan. The wedding reception was due to wind up at 2.00 a.m., whereupon we’d both head to our separate bedrooms, wait for the women to fall asleep and send a text message to confirm their respective slumbers. Liam suggested it would be a good idea if we didn’t pass each when we were making our way to each others' rooms, because seeing the person who was about to fuck your girl friend might cause some last minute indecision. To celebrate the conquest we’d meet up in the lounge bar to toast our sordid success with a cigar and a port. That was his idea, and I liked the thought of it. We exchanged room cards and headed in entirely different directions.

I got the text at 2.15 a.m. “She’s asleep. Let’s do it, man.” I’d forgotten to switch my phone to silent and thought for a second that the piercing, Crazy Frog ringtone might wake Sam. She had only just dropped off and was snoring like a pig in the middle of a mildly erotic dream. Making love to Sam used to feel like slowly tearing velvet. Recently it felt like stubbing a fag out. She slept on; blissfully unaware that she was about to be unfaithful to me for the first time. I pictured Liam on top of her and instead of feeling pangs of jealousy it turned me on. Bosh…Bosh…Bosh!

The corridors of the hotel were fully illuminated. I felt everything should be dark. Or at the very least fading into soft candlelight. As I crept stealthily along the carpet like a Japanese Ninja it suddenly occurred to me that I had no need to adopt such a comically suspicious gait nobody knew that I was about to cast my magic and commit a sexy rape. I could just be up late walking my invisible dog. As I got to the lift all thoughts of what Liam would soon be doing to Sam vanished and my mind filled with what I was going to do to Belinda. My only concern was triggering too soon and giving the game away. What was it Liam said? “She likes it long, hard and deep. Don’t forget to slap her arse and treat her like the cow she is!” Which I presume didn’t mean letting her wander round a field for a few years before shooting and eating her. The spanking was a worry though. I just didn’t see the point. Call me old-fashioned, but what’s erotic about slapping somebody’s bare buttocks with your palm whilst ferociously masturbating? It’s all a bit porno if you ask me.

I reached room 208. Liam had put the ‘do not disturb sign’ on the handle as agreed; signalling everything was as cool as James Brown on a skateboard. I slid the entry card into the slot and the green light flashed. I was in. My armpits prickled and the sweat on my palms trickled down my wet fingers. Hopefully that wouldn’t give the game away when I slapped her arse. The room was pitch dark. Everything was happening faster than disaster. I felt like I was stepping into a black hole.

Having shut the door, the only way I could guide my way to the bed and my sleeping target was by following the gentle, feminine snoring of Belinda. She’d soon be grunting like a pig the little slut! Or was it a cow? I slipped quietly into bed beside her. She was lying face down just as Liam said she would be. I paced myself for a minute and then started my seduction, stroking her long hair and then butterfly kissing her soft ear lobes. The perfume she was wearing tasted like Parma Violet sweets. She soon started to groan appreciatively and began controlling operations, so to speak, just as Liam said she would. It wasn’t long before she was gripping the headboard whilst guiding me into her. And then I got my first surprise of the night. Liam had neglected to tell me she…well how can I put this delicately? That black hole I talked about stepping into earlier, well this hole was a lighter shade brown, in fact. Liam had gone into great detail about the arse slapping but hadn’t mentioned the arse fucking.

Maybe you’ve been through this before but I'm a chocolate virgin. Please don’t let me be misunderstood. Fuck moderation. He was certainly right about her loving it: her hips bucked uncontrollably as I banged away like a migraine.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Bosh! Her orgasm arrived like a plane crash.

She collapsed onto the bed, still face down, leaving me unsatisfied with a tablespoon of anger brewing in my bollocks. I briefly considered whacking off over her back but didn’t know whether it was the kind of activity Liam would’ve indulged in. I suspected it was; but without knowing for sure, decided against risking it.

I lowered myself onto Belinda and kissed the back of her head and bid her a goodnight. I was very delighted with my performance; I’d made her come in half the time it took Liam. Fucking amateur I almost felt sorry for Sam.
Rising triumphantly from the battlefield, I wiped my cock on the curtain, put away my beast, and left the arena.

Time for that cigar and port, no doubt I’d have to wait a while for Liam as he flailed away for Sam's G spot. There were still guests from the wedding milling about in the lounge bar. Some of them had stayed up for a few hands of bridge. I ordered a glass of Port and a Romeo Y Julietta Cuban cigar. As I was telling the barman my room number I felt a tap on my back and swung round grinning expecting to see Liam. But it was Belinda.

My heart missed several beats before taking refuge in my mouth. I swallowed deep and hard. She’d obviously come looking for Liam. She smiled. Maybe she was in on the plan from the start.

“Hello Stan. Has Samantha abandoned you for the night already? What a lightweight! Liam’s the same; he went to bed early too. I’ve been playing bridge over there, why don’t you come and join us? I’m in the middle of a lucky streak.”

“Hang on a s-second," I stammered, "you’re here and Liam’s up in your bedroom? And you’ve been down here all night. So you’ve not been to bed?”

“No, like I said," Belinda replied. "It’s just Liam that went to bed. He’s flat out! Will you stay for a quick rubber?”

The word shrivelled what dignity remained to me. I declined her offer and, feeling slightly ill, scuttled off to bed with my tail well and truly between my legs.

Breaking news, rival university students will take to the River Thames next month for their annual boat race. The Telegraphs expert sport pundit had little to say about the race on the grounds that he was "too drunk", but on who the winner will be he told me: "I'm almost certain it will either be Oxford or Cambridge, but frankly in these extreme changing weather conditions anything could happen."

In a surprise development this morning, the race's organisers announced that this year's race would be the last in its current form. According to Professor Helmut Zigler, a senior stopwatch operator, "the race just isn't demanding enough any more". Starting next year, the teams will face a new course, travelling from London to Aberdeen by train. "This will be much more exciting," said Professor Zigler through his megaphone. "The new course is extremely physically demanding. In fact, it will be a miracle if both of the teams finish it!"

Onto other news, almost the entire world, its mother and its Aunt Marge who lives in Southend were today "shocked, surprised but most of all shocked" at finding themselves agreeing with the Conservative Party. Expert bearded and bespectacled historian Dr George T Prescot of Southend University (who, incidentally, is married to a Mrs Margaret Prescot) told me that it is a "remarkable turnaround in events". "I can't recall another occasion in recent history where so many people have agreed with the Conservatives," he said. "It really is very unusual."

The Commons has long voiced its concern over the success of reality television, which has essentially stolen the format of its flagship programme ‘Prime Minister’s Question Time’.

Gordon Brown, generously taking time off from shredding top secret government memos on the preparation for the invasion of Iran, told a spellbound audience on “Breakfast with Sir David Paradine Frost, OBE”

that: “we have long employed the formula of ‘people arguing in a room’, but what reality television has taught us is that if you want to win the ratings war, you can’t just rely on that.'

Expanding on the need for politics to keep pace with the nation’s fascination with reality, Mr Browns eyes lit up as he outlined his vision for parliamentary broadcasting. “I think it is all too clear in today’s society that people’s attention spans will simply not stretch to a full term, or indeed, a single parliamentary session. They don’t want to wait four or five years to vote for an eviction from the House of Commons they want to see people being removed from office every week.” In this new ‘reality’ set-up, people will be able to text in their votes to Channel Four and decide the fate of a different member of parliament every week.

The excitement will peak on Friday nights with an ‘Eviction Night Special’ broadcast live from Westminster. The show will feature the week’s evicted politician being cheered or booed by crowds as they leave the Commons, and later being interviewed live on air by Kelly Brooke, dressed in what producers have called 'fun-sized leisurewear' or a boob tube and arse-grazing pelmet to the rest of us.

Only exceptional circumstances including one 'very serious' attempt to apologise led Judge Lord Mutton to resist sending the plump Prime minister down. Brown’s computer contained 1,877 indecent photographs and 79 video clips showing dogs and cats engaged in sexual activities of such depravity that one female investigator suffered a 'violent seizure', which resulted in her sustaining a 'minor groin injury.'

Yesterday one senior London detective described the images as 'disgusting', adding that some of the dogs photographed were under the age of four and still ‘puppies’ whilst others, provisionally identified as Beagles, were depicted smoking after acts of 'a non-consentual nature.'

Brown denied six charges of producing indecent photographs of poodles between March and July last year, but was convicted by a jury after a secret trial. He was also convicted of possessing indecent pictures of naked Dobermans on skateboards. The ebullient former ship's steward was given a two-hour sentence, suspended for fifty years, and was ordered to register as a sex offender for ten minutes. He will be on full supervision for at least half an hour. During the trial, PM Brown claimed he was not interested in indecent pictures of animals but admitted he wanted to look at 'animals in unusual and difficult situations.' PM Brown also claimed his photographs were for 'secret government research into the identification, detention and arrest of suspected terrorists.'

Gordon Brown is no newcomer to controversy; in his thirty-year political career he has killed at least 2-immigrant family’s and viciously assaulted two American tourists who asked him the way to Big Ben and exposed himself on national television.

Following the Labour Party's horrific election victory in May 1997 he was appointed Chancellor and told he could 'do anything he wanted' by top Blair aides.

Sources not at all close to Mr Brown, have described him as a 'low-life scumbag' who has used the vast riches that political success have brought him to further his ambition to host his own game show and become Prime Minister.

Mr Brown’s behaviour in the past few years has been cause for grave concern in Westminster. In 2003 he publicly called for brain implants for kilt wearers, a mass culling of radio disc jockeys and the execution of eighties pop star Joe Dolce. In March this year, PM Brown outraged EU officials when he described them as 'fucking idiots'. In fact, so offensive have his outbursts become, that American visitors to the Houses of Parliament have been warned to 'steer clear of a short, fat bloke with a foul mouth who makes rude gestures to passers-by' for fear of precipitating a riot.

Ex PM and Middle East (Middle Man) missing in action, Tony Blair has stood by one of his staunchest allies, describing him as 'the salt of the earth, who believes in a brighter future where every household will own at least two 4x4’s or possibly a an American SUV.'

Hapless ex-Conservative party leader Michael Howard has also heaped praise on Mr Brown, commenting: 'this is a man who can look at himself in the mirror every morning and say: "there is a man".

Society today is a very permissive society and there are few taboos left. Teenagers are educated in areas of sex that would have shocked and embarrassed many married couples in previous centuries. Fantasies are discussed freely and films become more and more explicit. Premarital sex is virtually the norm.

Nowadays, homosexuality, bondage, spanking, group sex and wife-swapping can all be freely discussed in polite society. More concern is registered over someone making a value judgement against such practices than whether or not someone indulges in them.

But one bastion of privacy and shame remains and that is the subject of masturbation. Sperm banks in the UK suffer from a shortage of (paid) donors simply because the UK male is too bashful to face a receptionist with evidence in his hand that he actually masturbated. Some men find it painful to admit to themselves that they indulge in wanking, much less acknowledge such a practice to their friends, or even to their doctor. Yet paradoxically, masturbation is despised by religious prudes and liberated machos alike. Prudes see it as sinful and machos see it as a sign of weakness; yet both practise it.

Here is the ultimate in sexual hypocrisy. All of the arguments used against Puritanism and double standards in every other area of sexual practice have overlooked the number one offender. While 'self-abuse' as it used to be called, is practised almost universally, it is also done with almost universal shame. It is like the story of The Emperor's New Clothes. We all implicitly support the lie that no respectable person would touch themselves 'down there' when what we really need is for an innocent child to speak the truth and say, 'Hey look! The emperor is playing with himself!'

Many people have found it liberating to be able to speak freely about their fantasies, about their sexual preferences and about other practices which were once frowned upon. But how much more liberating it would be if people could overcome the dictates of their biological needs when those dictates interfere with other goals. And that is exactly what masturbation represents. It is the safety valve on the sexual pressure cooker. Masturbation stops us from exploding in unacceptable or inappropriate ways.

I spoke about this situation quite frankly with a Catholic Priest once, in an effort to get him to realise the positive side of masturbation. He eventually confided to me that in his youth ('Before I became a Christian, of course!') he had gone out on a date with a girl that he greatly respected. He did not want to scare her off by being too forward, so he stopped at a service station and went into the toilet to relieve himself in more ways than one. And, of course, it worked. Yet this same minister still teaches boys in his congregation that they are guilty of a great sin if they indulge in masturbation. Paedophilia, incest, rape, homosexuality, bestiality all these practices seem to be tolerated more by a church which refuses to speak the liberating truth about masturbation.

The traditional reason given for condemning masturbation within the Christian church is that Jesus Christ taught that it was just as bad to 'look on a woman with lust' as it was to actually commit adultery with her. In other words, the thought was as bad as the deed. So a teaching developed that thinking about sex (which obviously occurs during masturbation) is evil, regardless of whether you ever indulged in the practice you were thinking about, or not. Some tried nobly to suppress all thoughts of sex, only to discover that they resurfaced, often in more bizarre forms than they had exhibited before they were pushed underground. In Arab countries, where many women are covered from head to toe, for example, sexual offences still occur. And the same is true of the most extreme of religious 'holiness' cults.

Covering women's bodies will not take away the God-given, biological urge to have sex. Nor is clothing going to stop the war that rages in the minds of people who feel guilty about having sexual thoughts. Some Amish groups have succeeded in stopping all forms of ejaculation for extended periods of time, only to develop cancer from the rotting semen inside their sex organs. Others have adopted the attitude that, if they are going to fry in hell anyway, they may as well get as much pleasure out of this life as they can before Judgement Day. So a rule aimed at inculcating greater morality has led to greater immorality, both from those who have thrown it out as too hard to follow and from those who have tried their hardest to obey it.

The mistake is that people confuse 'thinking about sex' with 'lust.' Lust is actually wanting to do something that you know is wrong. There are plenty of people who lust these days. And it is not limited sexual matters. Let's say, for example, that you like pizza. You don't feel guilty about this, do you? But if the only way you can get one is to steal it from your neighbour, then fulfilling your desire could mean doing something that you know is wrong (i.e., stealing). You can desire the pizza all you want, and even (if you like, for the fun of it) fantasise about stealing it; but if the bottom line is that you would not actually do it (because you know it is wrong), then you have not sinned. But if you could get away with stealing it and held back simply because you were afraid of being caught, then you are spiritually guilty of the act of robbery, whether or not you ever got up enough courage to actually do it. You have 'lusted' after the pizza, by wanting it more than you want to do what is right. But the pizza (i.e., the thing you desired), is not wrong in itself.

Applying this to sex, the sin is not in desiring sex (since that is as universal as the desire for food), nor is it in fantasising about sex. The sin is in wanting to actually perform a sexual act that you know is wrong, and then refraining from doing it only out of fear about what people would think of you or what they would do to you if they found out. Being sexually aroused by a rape scene in a movie (or a detailed description of one in a book) is not the same as actually wanting to rape someone. If you felt the scene was tempting you to rape someone, then masturbating to relieve these desires is the best way to overcome the temptation and to stop yourself from actually raping someone. Masturbation is the universally legitimate way to satisfy your sexual appetite without indulging in something else which may not be legitimate. If there was more masturbation, there would be a lot less incest, fewer rapes, less infidelity in marriage and a lot less frustrated and guilt-ridden men and women.

Instead of trying to stop people from masturbating, the church should be encouraging them to do so, thus leaving them free to choose (without the overriding pressure of sperm build-up for males) not to do those things that God has forbidden. Much of this has relevance to females as well. Many marriages would be happier if wives weren't so riddled with feelings of guilt about their own sexual needs.

There is a popular myth that people cannot live without sex that suggests that God is unreasonable to expect people to remain faithful in marriage, chaste outside of marriage and single if the first marriage fails. But people can live without having sex with another person and to do so does not require some impossible level of self-control. Living without sexual pleasure and release is, however, a different story. And because the church has fostered the myth that people can, through sheer willpower, become asexual, it must take some responsibility for the sexual permissiveness, high incidence of divorce and remarriage, and the backlash against God that has resulted from this lie in today's world.

In conclusion, we should ask ourselves: Was Jesus fully human? If so, did he have wet dreams? (For, if men don't masturbate, then sooner or later, semen will come out through 'nocturnal emissions.') And if this happened to Jesus, would he have had thoughts about sex at the moment of ejaculation? The obvious answer is 'Yes.' For ejaculation itself is sex. And if Jesus was without sin, then thoughts about sex (and ejaculations outside of marriage) must not be any more sinful than eating or going to the toilet. It is only cultural brainwashing that has taught us otherwise.

As a sexually frustrated, slightly religiously uptight youth I used to look forward to wet dreams, because it was the one time when I was free to indulge in activities and thoughts which were forbidden to me in the daytime. And yet even these were marred by the fear that the dream might not be just a dream. How much better to consciously choose to fantasise (and masturbate) while awake. For me, this became very much a guilt-free option!

One of the cleverest ways the church has ever found to control the masses has been to make masturbation a sin. The consequence has been that the most dishonest (i.e., the ones who try to give the impression that they don't masturbate) are looked on as being the most holy, while more honest believers are made to feel guilty and in need of absolution from these hypocrites. Anyone interested in a genuine revival of sexual morality and sincere faith should consider the possibility that the first step in that direction might be to enlighten the masses to their right (and perhaps even their responsibility) to masturbate. At the same time, those who suffer from guilt because of the secular myth that real men don't wank need to stand up to that lie as well.

The result will be a happier, healthier society for all.

Breaking News, shocking new research out today has revealed that around half of Britons are of below average intelligence.
The research was carried out by a team of academics and pole dancers, based at Oxford and Soho respectively. Professor Trevor Mc Duff, a self-appointed world authority in his field (a particularly muddy one on a farm in Kent) couldn’t explain why he was wearing a frilly pink tutu, although he did comment on his team’s findings. Unfortunately, our reporter was distracted by the pole dancers, so we don’t really know what he said.

Meanwhile, the Conservatives have been quick to condemn the government, Blue Peter and Black cab drivers across the country for the disappointing findings; the government has defended itself, Blue Peter and Jordan, instead choosing to place the blame with the Conservatives; and the Liberal Democrats have made the only sensible response, namely pointing out the rather obvious nature of the findings and the pointlessness of this article, but nobody really listened to them.

Alan Johnson today, took time out from shortening NHS waiting lists with Tippex to talk exclusively to me over a glass of freshly-squeezed (organic) carrot juice at a “Bar One” in London City.

Alan Johnson is clearly a man on a crusade if not a jihad to turn a nation of obese, allergy-challenged, drug-dependant wheezing wrecks into perfect specimens of glowing physical health and mental fitness, as embodied in the persons of the once Deputy Prime Minister, John Prescott and the late Mo Mowlam. Under his new proposals, patients will be required to prove that their circumstances and lifestyle are not responsible for the conditions they are suffering from in order to obtain medical help. When we pointed out that such radical steps were likely to exclude over 75% of the population from receiving treatment, the Minister nodded approvingly and launched into a long tirade against the 'army of scrounging malingerers' who cost the British taxpayer millions of pounds and undermine the efficiency of a health service that is the 'envy of the world.'

"Under my new proposals, all obesity-related illnesses will be treated at the patient's expense. Obesity causes huge health problems and costs this country a fortune in medical insurance. People have a choice. Labour is all about choice. If people choose to spend their dole money stuffing their faces with microwaveable pizza, chips and chocolate they can hardly expect to cop a free triple heart bypass when their clogged arteries finally give out, can they?"

"Is there a name for these new proposals, Minister?" I asked.

"Yes, NICE—the National Initiative for Clinical Economisation. Alistair Darling estimates it will save the Treasury 62 billion pounds in the first year of operation.
And, of course, waiting lists will simply vanish."

"How's that?"
"Well...really!" ejaculated the Minister smugly. "Half of all hospital beds are filled with fat, ageing smokers and drinkers and the other half are filled with even fatter malingerers who used to smoke and drink."

"Are you saying your proposed denial of treatment would apply to ex-smokers and drinkers too?"

"Naturally. Otherwise some wheezing, gin-sodden, overweight scrounger will simply give up their filthy vices and starve themselves for a month or two before applying for treatment. We're not stupid, you know."

"And you don't see any flaw in this reasoning, Minister?"

"No none."

"Then perhaps you'd care to explain how someone is expected to determine whether his or her illness is self-inflicted or not? How can you be sure that a smoker who has a heart attack might not have had one anyway even if they had never smoked?"

Mr Johnson swallowed and drummed his fingers noisily on the tabletop.

"I...er…we...look a patient's individual circumstances and lifestyle will only be taken into account when there will be an impact on the clinical and cost effectiveness of the treatment."

"So what you're saying is that if an overweight smoker goes to the doctor with an ingrowing toenail they'll receive help but if they collapse with a heart attack outside Tesco's they'll be left to die?"

"Well they should have jolly well thought of that before they started smoking and stuffing their face, shouldn't they?" snapped Mr Johnson.

"What about sports injuries, Minister?" I asked.

"I'm glad you brought that up. The government believes that dangerous sports are another area long overdue for new legislation. Whilst sensible physical jerks a few press-ups in the bedroom during the monthly conjugals or gentle arm-stretching upon rising in the morning are admirable activities with little risk attached to them, vigorous jogging can cause serious injuries. Consequently, we propose that reckless pavement pounders should be refused treatment for any knee and foot injuries they acquire through their selfish activities."

"What about skiing?"

"Frankly, if you can afford to bugger off to Klosters every February for three weeks on the Piste, you can certainly afford to pay for your own bloody hip replacement!"

"And football?"

"According to a recent survey conducted by my department, football-related injuries cost this country approximately £236,437,382 every year. Under my new proposals soccer hooligans will no longer be treated for broken ankles or heads."

"I understand you're also going after sunbathers?"

"Absolutely! Sunbathing has been directly linked to a variety of malignant cancers. It is completely unacceptable to this government that sunbathing-related diseases should be treated at the public expense. Under my new proposals, any patient presenting with a suspected tumour will be tested for evidence of tanning during the last thirty years"

"Thirty years?" I interrupted.

"Well...we were going to make it fifty years, but compromised after lobbying from pharmaceutical companies."
"And if the tests are positive they'll be refused treatment?"

"Exactly."

Implementing such sweeping improvements in the health of our nation might run into some resistance, but I had the Minister's personal assurance that just as the smoking ban which came into force in 2007 will practically eliminate that filthy vice. Persuading the nation to forego hospital treatment should not prove insurmountable. Which is more than we can say for getting Britons to give up drinking and stuffing their faces with chips and microwaveable pizza. But we can tackle that later.

I asked the Minister when his proposals were likely to be implemented.
"Many of them are already common practise in many Health trusts throughout the UK."
"Such as?" I asked.
"Well...hip replacements, for one."
"Are any still being done?" I asked.
"Very funny," snapped Mr Johnson. "Yes they jolly well are; on those whose individual circumstances and lifestyle qualify them for treatment under current NHS guidelines."

"Which are?"

"That clinically obese people should not be automatically entitled to hip and knee replacement surgery."
"Why ever not?"
"Because it's not NICE!" retorted the Minister irritably.
"Nice?"
"Providing clinically obese patients with new knees does not conform to the guidelines laid down by the National Initiative for Clinical Economisation."
"In what way?"
"The risks of operating on obese patients are much higher and the treatment may be less effective, with replacement joints wearing out sooner."

"So, it's all a question of money?"

"We prefer to call it a national initiative for clinical economisation."

"Nice..." I replied.

Our great country was closed indefinitely today as it was inundated with drift upon drift of pure white death, or "snow" as it is sometimes known.

Practically all branches of Government have been affected by the freezing conditions: the Health Secretary, Alan Johnson, has contracted a cold; the Transport Secretary, Geoff Buff-Hoon is heavily congested; and the Communities Secretary, Hazel Blears, was buried up to her neck in a 3ft drift of snow. Eyewitnesses report that Ms Blears was dug out by passers-by, only to be buried again when they realised who she was.

However there was an exception to the Government's paralysis Lord Mandelson, who is unaffected by Earth weather. A spokesman for Mandy said that the Business Secretary's body temperature had remained a constant five degrees below zero throughout the day, as normal.

In a communication early this morning from his concrete bunker under 10 Downing Street, which has recently been painted in pastel shades in an attempt to combat his rampant anxieties, a shivering Gordon Brown urged people not to move an inch for fear of hastening their inevitable freezing demise.

"Friends my people and countrymen the unprecedented snow crisis we are facing is the result of problems caused by global weather systems, which have their roots in Russia," he said. "I urge everyone to stay exactly where they are and only make a journey if it is absolutely essential and that doesn't include going on strike outside any oil refineries."

"I believe that I’m setting the right example by not moving from this seat. I haven't been to toilet for 30 hours," he added, as his face went a peculiar shade of green. "It's simply too dangerous."
Latest news
Ghurkha soldiers who have recently returned from Iraq have been deployed around London to stop anyone trying to use the capital's transport infrastructure, which has been deemed unfit for human use, closed down and sold off to a farmer in Hungary. A spokesman for Mayor Boris Johnson, who is currently searching for his bicycle in the snow outside his house, said that anyone trying to use public transport in London would be shot or given a fixed penalty notice.
Late latest news
It appears the soldiers have been withdrawn from their positions around the city after it was confirmed that their guns do not work in the cold. The Ministry of Defence denied that their guns did not work in any circumstances, despite being presented with evidence that they did not work in hot weather conditions such as those found in Iraq either. A spokesman said that the weapons had been thoroughly tested in realistic battle conditions in an air-conditioned room in Kent and were without fault.

The soldier’s posts have been taken up by heavily armed civic wardens, thought to be the only branch of the State with the exceptions of Lord Mandelson and Hull City Council's ice cream parlour capable of operating in cold weather.

As it stands at the moment it is not known when Britain is likely to re-open, but a Government spokesman was able to tell our reporter that so far the only casualties of the cold weather were three people in Lewisham, who were tasered to death by civic wardens after trying to get on a bus!

I can reveal why single women who use vibrators may be damaging their health!

It turns out that recent Medical studies have shown that single women who use vibrators more than once a week are more likely to suffer from several distressing symptoms than women who enjoy a normal married sex life.

What this study found is that frequent use of a girl's best friend stimulates the acetylcholine/parasympathetic nervous functions which can result in over production of sex hormones and neurotransmitters such as acetylcholine, dopamine and serotonin. Abundant and unusually high amounts of these hormones and neurotransmitters can cause the brain and adrenal glands to make major changes in a woman's body chemistry.

The possible side effects of such changes to the body include:
Feeling tired all the time
Lower back pain
Increased stress and anxiety
Thinning hair or actual hair loss
Facial dermatitis
Fuzzy vision
Pain or cramp in the pelvic region.

My Advice: If you have experienced the above symptoms you should (a) throw away your electric toys, (b) stop buying courgettes/marrows/carrots, make an urgent appointment with your Doctor or get yourself a real man!

Please feel free to contact me anytime! Nil Satis Nisi Optimum