Women.

One of the collection, no.64 I believe , referred to me as her BOYFRIEND the other day.
I pointed out that I was , in fact, her owner. She was displeased at this and didn't join in my morning bath with the others. Ah well. It reminds me of many years ago, chap called Manny Kulkowski, off his head with some sort of powder, tried to sell me some women. I said to him as I would say to anybody "Manny, those are leopards".
He was very embarrassed by his mistake, and was unsure what to do with his life.
I suggested he write articles on the mundane and the extraordinary with his undead friend Winston. He muttered some bollocks about a robot from the future and staggered away giggling maniacally. Never saw the chap again. Still, bloody women, eh?

Download 2007

Why on earth did nobody warn me of this godforsaken terrifying racket?
I just wanted to fucking simply sit on my deckchair, drink fine wine, and watch girlies.
I showed up early and put up my chair right at the front and commenced relaxing.
I was drinking a fine 1972 vintage, when suddenly a popular beat combo named "slayer" run on stage, blow out my fucking eardrums with a song entitled "Mandatory suicide".
Twenty thousand young people swarm over me, and my deckchair with me in it is thrown onto the stage .
I land by a chap called Tom Araya who is the singer and bass player.
He looks at me and doubles over laughing. I was going to get out of the chair and indulge in fisticuffs with him, when he shouted to the crowd"Who wants to see blood!!!!!!!!!!!???"
The eighty thousand strong crowd cheered at this. A rather large built man I later found out was called Kerry King, raised me and the chair above his head.
"Reign in Blood!!!!!!" Araya shouted as I was tossed into the baying throng of the crowd.
My blanket was shredded in seconds, and as I got thrown about I was sure I had been grabbed in my private place.
I eventually hit the back of the crowd and hit the ground as Slayer ended their set.
At that point I ran for my life. I reached a campsite full of young women and made love to all of them. some were rather "bristley" mind you.

On a plane

its 1991,
I'm on a flight to Amsterdam with my friends Reuben and Brian Clague.
suddenly there is an announcement from the captain about us being diverted to Rome.
"I need prozzies!!!!" shouted Brian who ran down the aisle and jumped out the door of the aircraft,whilst indulging in Onanism.
Reuben shouted" I need the Ganja!!!!!AIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!", as he threw himself out of the plane, via the door.
"Is that enough yet?" said the attractive lady under my blanket wiping her mouth."That was a tenner's worth George".
"Well, it'll have to do I suppose" I said as I extinguished my bifter.

Belloe by name

Its this summer, I'm sat on a hilltop on a summer's eve, supping wine.
A car pulls up a pair of buttocks is flattened against the car window.
I pulled my blanket round my shoulders and rapped on the car door.
"What on earth are you doing in there?" I demanded.
"We're dogging" came a female's voice.
"Right-ho" I said , "Can I join in, I have a very large blanket"?
"Fuck off" a male voice said, and then "You fucking f-.......George.....George Belloe????"
"Rupie???? I-Thought you were dead".
"No I'm Rupert's son, I never understood how my dad died".
"He fucked my camel" I replied as I reached in and released the handbrake sending the car into rapid plummet off the hill to erupt into a fireball of sound and devastation of glass and metal, that boomed throughout the cotswolds. Spilt my wine.Pity.

My motorised conveyance.

Its last year,
I've taken delivery of my new car, a shiny 1930 Packard Standard Eight 726.
I've gone for a drive with my old chum Humphrey around the delightful Gloucestershire country lanes on the hills of the cotswolds. I'm really giving it some welly at 65mph, when Humphrey fellates me.
"Humphrey I'm going to crash you silly bastard!" I shouted.
"Mbwwwmm mwnew ww" He said.
"Humphrey stop immediately what on earth are you doing that for" I demanded.
"Sorry George, I got frightened by the high speed and had to distract myself else I would have fouled your car". He stammered."I must carry on!" He insisted and he did before I could stop him.At that point we hit a hedge and my penis got bitten off.
"Could I put my finger up your arse?" He suggested.
I thought, why not.

world war 2

I'm sat in a tank in a field in France 1943, drinking an excellent wine with my chum Algernon. Who piped up with "here George, any nazi's about?".
To which I replied "Not for a few days Algie".
"Right" he said "I'll be the lady this time".
"What are you talking about Algie? have you gone stark raving mad? ". I asked.
"Well, George I haven't seen a real woman for 62 weeks , I thought we could take turns"
"Take turns?" I questioned.
"Well you give me a proper seeing to and I return the favour".
"But we're in a tank, we'll spill the wine! And I'm not gay in the slightest."
At that moment the corporal and the sergeant major of our company pop their heads inside the tank.
"Hello Bitches, whose first for a stuffing?" asked The corporal.
"Well, the thing is I'm not gay and I'm drinking wine, sah. But Algie here will play hide the sausage by all accounts".
At that moment a jerry shell struck the tank and Killed the officers, and blew Algie in half!
"Ah well, game of cards then" He said.

my friend's new car

My old chum Henry warner- smith was telling me about a lady friend of his called Miss E Cavanagh, apparently she's a right fucking old slag. Anyway, my associate Jeremy Farthingsworth telephoned me the other day, "George, I've got a new motor vehicle, you must see it."I asked him what it was-"A nissan blue micra, "But Jeremy" I replied "I didn't know you wanted to do the man-dance?", "What ever do you mean George?" So I said "Well, if you come round I'll show you, Jeremy".
He drove round my place and was paralysed for a short time afterwards.Bought a peugot immediately.

Well,
its now June.
My sandals are killing me and my blankets getting all itchy.
And my beards sweating like a bastard. The Korean war. That was a bastard as well.

So its 1956,
I'm on a camel talking with my friend Rupert, in the Bajari desert of the fukii people, in Asia.When, Rupie, jumps off his fucking camel and starts boffing mine, which makes for discomfort atop the damn thing. I shouted "Rupie, stop boffing my fucking camel are you insane!", but he carried on regardless, whilst my buttocks were getting a real pounding. "Rupie, stop boffing the fucking camel, have a wank like a gentleman!". To this he replied "I'm not just boffing it, I've got an itch down there, I had to ease the irritability somehow!" whilst thrusting away. By this point I felt awfully sore and again shouted "Rupie stop boffing the fucking thing my arse can't take any more!", well, Rupert groaned in satisfaction and fell to the floor, and I got my camel to trod upon him till he was dead. His wife never liked that story.

well, here I am.


I was just wondering about the state of my wine cellar, when I thought I'd talk to you.


I first started collecting women in the 50's.


I went to that blasted musical festival, Glasto something in 1994, I was sat in my deckchair enjoying a fine wine, when these bloody fucking young people tipped me up, rolled me in the mud and put their tent up over my aging body and had a "disco".I nearly spilt my drink.





Anyway..... many years ago, I was on a sea voyage with my very good associate Jeremy Farthingsworth. We sat on our deckchairs smoking pipes, drinking wine talking of our love for the female box, when, suddenly, Jeremy stood up quick as you like, and threw himself over the side of the ship.When the captain approached me about this I stated " Poor chap must have lost his mind". The captain offered me a hand shandy, and I thought why not.





I went to a party in the late sixties, free love, lots of beautiful young girlies, some not wearing bras! One of them offered me some powder, sprinkled on her bare chest . I inhaled immediately hoping to get into her knickers. Fouled myself instantly, whilst trying to eat my beard.Pity.





Speak with you again.





George Belloe.