A man in London last week was arrested for trying to have sex with a fence. This wasn’t just any fence, it was in Leicester Square Gardens. I know the fence, and very attractive it is too.
Apparently Daniel French, aged 24, told police “I’m going to have sex with that fence.” “Oh no you’re not,” said the police and dragged him off.
The week before a “cycle-sexualist” (what quango came up with that ridiculous phrase) was caught half-naked in a compromising position with a bicycle in Scotland.
What I want to know is this: whatever happened to a good old-fashioned hooker? My mother has just moved to Italy and she lives in the middle of nowhere. “If you get lost,” she tells visitors, “ask the villagers for la puttana, I live just above the whore.”
My mother tells me the hooker arrives in her “office” just before 7am, parks up and stays all day. “She doesn’t even take time off for lunch, which I think is when she’s busiest.”
I imagine in my mother’s village fences and bicycles and other inanimate objects can sleep safely at night….