Monday, July 27, 2009

Size of pleasure

You know what, readers? Sometimes I wonder if I’m really quite as worldly as I think I am. It was someone’s birthday at work today and we all went for a quick snooter at lunch time, even though it’s a Monday. Anyway, Susie was talking to one of the other office girls, who’s called Trudy, about the latest guy that Trudy is seeing.

If different types of people had names like different breeds of animal, then Trudy would without a doubt be a Broad-backed Clapham. Apologies to those of you from other countries who may be unfamiliar with Clapham. And to those of you from this country who may be unfamiliar with Clapham. It’s a place in South London that exerts a powerful gravitational pull on upper middle class young professionals.

The men all have thick hair and jauntily upturned collars. The women all have blonde hair and jauntily upturned noses. These are the Claphams. They are loud and confident and rather well-off and they prefer rugby to football. Among the Claphams there are more VW Golfs per capita than in any part of Germany. There are very few Black Claphams.

The Broad-backed Clapham is a notable sub-breed of Clapham female. She is, as her name attests, more powerfully built than most of the Clapham females, more lustily vocal when there’s a rugby match on, more drunk than the others and more forthright as well.

This was pressed home, so to speak, at lunchtime today when I sat down next to Susie and Trudy with a drink and caught the following fragment of Trudy’s monologue:

“Well I don’t know if I really like him, but he’s got a massive cock. Not so big that it hurts, though.”

I actually spat a mouthful of beer over Trudy’s legs at this point, which was embarrassing, to say the least. But you just don’t expect to hear that kind of thing being said.

I mean, how big does it have to be before it hurts? Presumably Trudy has encountered one that is so big that it hurts… Having a large cock is a point of pride for men, I should have thought. But if it’s too big does it become effectively useless? A clumsy, lumpen appendage? A bringer only of pain?

I’ll be honest with you: The best compliment that I’ve ever been paid about my own cock is that it’s “quite a nice shape”. I was happy enough with that to begin with but after a while I began to worry that I was being patronised. I suppose I shouldn’t have asked the girl in question what she thought of it in comparison to others that she had encountered.

I don’t mind it being a nice shape, assuming she was telling the truth. But you never hear people in porn films saying:

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Oh yeah, baby. Do it to me with your nice-shaped cock.”

Being a nice shape is really only useful for objects whose principal purpose is to be displayed. Since it is unlikely that my cock will ever be displayed, I can only assume that its nice-shapedness is going to go woefully under-appreciated. What I really wanted the girl to say, of course, was: “it’s bloody enormous.”

Or perhaps:

“It’s biblical. It’s like some kind of Old Testament Cock. A wrathful, vengeful cock. The kind of cock that would smite you just as soon as look at you. It’s a priapic colossus, a monster of the genus. A marvel of biology. It revels in its own earth-quaking magnificence. It has a certain, haughty arrogance about it, but deservedly so; like Mr Darcy. It needs its own horsepower rating. It has a reassuring heft to it when weighed in the hand. You can feel the quality. It has the natural authority to silence a room simply with its presence. It’s the non-pareil of cocks. It glowers with menace and dark potential. It’s a rumbling, angry, trumpeting mastodon seized in the grip of prehistoric must. You could use it to prove the theory of displacement in the Amazon Basin. Eureka! Oh, yes! Eureka! It hogs the duvet. It's a fucking privilege. It’s wild and stormy; a howling, havoc-wreaking hurricane of a cock. But it’s not so big that it hurts.”

But I didn’t get that, did I. I got: “It’s quite a nice shape”.

Oh well, you can’t have it all.

Unlike Roger, it seems, who has proposed to my mother. And my mother has accepted. I'm in denial at the moment, so we'll talk about that another time.

ND out.


  1. You make me laugh with every single blog you post mate !

    I think it does matter a bit - I mean, I'm completely satisfied with what I got, but if I was challenged so to speak, it would matter. I can understand the expectations, but I remember watching Sex And The City - Samantha was dating someone who had a tiny one - wasn't satisfied, she said she loved big giant cocks, and then she dated that kind of guy and wasn't satisfied either! But it's Samantha, and it's fiction !

  2. The only nice anyone has told me about my own is that it's quite thick. But, with nothing to compare it to, how can you really tell?