Spring is now upon us and I trust you all (both of you) have your sexual arousal spatulas fully-oiled (with turbo-weasel spleen oil) ready for the new season’s round of orgies. It will not be long now before the open-air orgy scene begins in earnest*.
Although open-air orgies seem to embody so much of the rural idyll, they, like most Arcadian fantasies differ in the reality a good deal from what you urban ‘sophisticates’ so naively imagine.
Most obvious, I suppose, is the danger of exposing your nether regions and intimate delicate parts in the general vicinity of several forms of insect life. All of which – so it seems – only exist on this earth to cause severe irritation to its human inhabitants. I speak, in particular, of wasps who not only seem to have an insatiable appetite for jam-ensmeared picnics, they also seem to be attracted to the oils, lubricants and other unguents without which no modern-day outdoor orgy would be complete, or quite as sticky.
Other outdoor problems, such as:
- Setting up the deck chairs for the audience and those taking a tea break
- Dog – and other animal – evacuations
- Not being ‘in’ when the postman knocks
- Wind damage to the fresh cream cakes
- Muddy knees and elbows
- Damp grass cuttings in the crevices
And so on and so forth do tend to make these events not for the squeamish**, or for the easily discouraged.
*And Earnest is remarkably willing – and accommodating – for a man of his advanced years.
**The sight of Grand Uncle Stagnant striding manfully across the village green, naked – except for his pre-war wellies – is not a sight for those of a non-robust constitution, especially if you happen to catch him masticating near the fresh cream cakes.
Yours perversely: Norbert Trouser-Quandary