Mature Secretary seeks w/e male

As Nelson Mandela once said ‘stuff this, I’m off to the pub!’ Do you doubt me? Go ahead ask him. I’m pretty sure he didn’t dream and scheme some of the things he got up to without a quaff or two of John Barleycorn’s finest for company.

Escape. Release from mental turmoil. I found it you know, all alone, unaided, on my sofa.

Is it so hard to imagine that imagination can fire the engine of desire, delusion and misrepresentation? Surely not! The goodly folk that drive the wheels of the internet have taken this specialty to a new level. They know where to strike.

A computer is not an extension to enhance life skills. Don’t be silly, whoever told you that! It is the means to an end to communicate with that which is not real. It’s fascinating to think that the ‘civilized’ world supports this. Of course they do. Keeps the masses at bay, doesn’t it. It’s cheaper than alcohol or fags. If you literate your offspring, keep them indoors and away from street corners, you can drive down the crime rate and make sure the local bobby has time for his tea break. Let’s politicians feel proud of their achievements, and what’s more they will tell you so, in great percentage details. You know it must be fact because the other family member, the television told you so.

As a master of Illusion I know of such folly. Let me explain.

Not so far in the distant past I made an effort to contact earth via the internet. I was looking for a female member of the species to tarry with a while. I was bored and lonely. This is the first step to destruction.

I answered an advertisement to meet a ‘Mature’ secretary. Said ‘Mature’ secretary only visited the area every two or three months. She sounded delightful. Just what the doctor ordered. We arranged to meet at a hotel many weeks down the line.

I must now confess to being somewhat naive. I did not understand the shorthand of the gutter. I thought W/E meant well educated. Hard to believe I know but there you are. I had no idea it was a reference to personal gymnastic equipment. Fairly obvious dear reader well educated I am not. The other aspect concerning my anatomical possession has been very specifically documented elsewhere, much to my chagrin and necessary downfall.

Although when I made the arrangements I had no one else in my life something about this whole episode did not sit well with me. Firstly I was out of my territory and secondly I have a conscience.

A whole series of events made me stop and think. I’m glad I did.

On the appointed day I received an e-mail from the ‘mature’ secretary offering a mobile contact. There was also an instruction that when I reached the hotel I should call said mobile and she would furnish me with a room number. Simply somewhere away from prying eyes where we could become better acquainted you realize.

First rule in any situation concerning the internet, don’t believe a bloody word.

My ‘mature’ secretary had a name. The hotel had a register. The two did not tie up. I did not attend. I had no intention anyway, but I wanted to find out to satisfy my curiosity.

The hotel receptionist however could tell me that three’ burly’ men with accents James Bond would have been suspicious of occasioned their premises from time to time, every two or three months to be precise.

Fascinating animal the pig you know. Very singular vision and it’s only got that when it takes its nose from the trough.