Bloggery

Simply Hot Chafing

Heat wave! What do they mean heat wave?

Only a few years ago people were dieing because temperatures were at high as 38 Degrees. So why did the lady on the news last night ask the weatherman, if the modest temperature of 27 degrees was ‘unprecedented’? Granted the weatherman looked at her with what can only be described as pity and slowly explained that summer is supposed to be quite warm and that it will probably get hotter. But even after that reasonable explanation, the camera cut back to her face which was contorted into a look of extreme horror, as if she’d just seen a loved one being arse-fucked by an Elephant.

This goes to show that even mild weather is fear fodder to the twats who create television news. Next week I’m expecting a hard hitting report about the dangers of sneezing.

In future I’m going to get all my television news from E! The entertainment channel. They may only deal with stories about Angelina Jolie and whether she is looking poutier, but it’s still more honest than most of the main news providers.

Enough!

Last night I was astonished to see an advert for a special gel which when applied to the inner thigh prevents chafing. To illustrate this they had various human rotundas doing a little dance. Thus proving that even the fleshiest thigh would be left unchafed by a little dance.

Now I like my food. However when the scale tops fourteen stone I tend to cut back and get more exercise; it seems the sensible thing to do. In fact I’ve done it recently and lost half a stone. However if my thighs started to rub together I would be horrified. That’s not what thighs do. They go up to the crotch and only meet if the legs are crossed, that’s the normal way it works.

What I’m saying is: chafing thighs are a sign to stop ramming cakes down your throat and start dieting. Don’t go buying products to make the discomfort go away. If somebody was stabbing themselves repeatedly in the head with a fork while they did a little dance, you wouldn’t offer them a cream to stop it from hurting, you’d tell them to stop.

 

Salad for tea.

Martin Wolfenden

Back in the early days of this Century, I made some money by saying the odd funny thing in public. On one of these occasions a fellow funny talker told me that I should write a blog (because that was the sort of thing funny talking people did back then.) Now, I’m not the sort of person who does things the easy way, so I rejected all the ready made blogging platforms and started my own website. Since then it’s become a repository for whatever stuff is bubbling out of my brains and a directory of various podcasts and videos that I’ve made with my friends and is completely unnecessary.

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