Summer of Savile – Day 22: Slapstick & First Dates

Days 0-21

Mr. Grimsdale!!?!

This was complicated by my cigar falling out of my mouth and on to my bare legs.

*slide whistle*

After nine hundred miles of hard road, my feet are in constant pain so a bunch of keys under my bare left sole is all I need. ‘Ooh SHITE!’ I yell, and drop the torch on his head.

*wa-wa-wah trumbone*

Now, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no expert in the matters of women and romance and all that. The line “I write a blog that serializes Jimmy Savile’s 1974 autobiography” isn’t as much of a turn-on as you’d think, and if I ever get near-fatally trampled by a circus elephant only for a kindly stranger to revive me with CPR, that poor fucker will find themselves the unwitting star of a ‘my first kiss’ anecdote. Jim on the other hand, was anything but a late starter.

At the age of twelve I had my first date with a real girl. She was about twenty and worked in the dance hall cashbox.

Using the media as my moral yardstick, this was probably harmless. It’d only be kiddy fiddling if the genders were reversed. Or if she was ugly, in which case, I am absolutely appalled!

~ by Stuart on October 22, 2009.

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