An artist friend of mine who I've only met via email sent me an email when I was in a silly mood. A serious mistake. I should be a politician. It's so much fun to take another people's words and turn them around and make them mean something entirely different...

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> Big sis tells me you have been trying to send some of your entertaining
> correspondence to me but it has been "bouncing" back.

I thought she was your *little* sister?!

You mean you are the younger, voluptuous sister?!


> Well, that is because I am the best bounce in town.

Darling, I am getting many mental images here - some disturbing, some not so disturbing. There is the angelic image of a little child bouncing happily on your knee as you pull a face because it has just filled it's pants. And a more horrifying image of a man bouncing on you in the missionary position.

(Reminds me of the joke - that you've probably heard:
At a sexual techniques class, the teacher arrived and said the class would be discussing sexual positions that day. She asked the class how many positions they knew. Most were too embarrassed to speak but one woman said, "Twelve."

The teacher nodded approval, but as she got ready to call on another hand, there was a loud call from the far back row of the 150 seat auditorium, "A hundred and one."

The little teacher looked over her thick glasses but couldn't make out who had spoken. So she called on a guy down in the front row who replied, "Seven."

Once again from the very back was heard, "A hundred and one."

The teacher ignored that and called upon a very shy lady halfway back in the class. At first the lady acted like she wasn't going to answer. Finally she said, "Only one, Miss."

"Well, that is unusual, young lady", the teacher said. "And what position would that be?"

"With the man on top and woman on the bottom," she replied.

And from the back of the room came that same voice, "A hundred and two!" )

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But, to get back to these images, the third image that I get from your comment about you being the best bounce in town is a rather unsettling one of you being tied spreadeagled between two rails and children using you as a trampoline.

You really should be careful what you write to us imaginative men of words!


> I have been keeping
> pretty nocturnal hours in the gallery trying to finish a commissioned
> portrait that is due to be sent to England on Monday and with the deadline
> looming I have had to stay focussed on that.

A commissioned portrait, huh? Well, if it's of Prince Charles, I hope that you have painted him in a dunce's cap. Geez, that guy is thick! (As has been demonstrated only this week by his release of his arrogant, undiplomatic, and ideological diaries of his visit to China!) Thank God the monarchy is no longer anything but a symbol!


> But. Now I have hung up my brushes for a day or two

But, darling, what about the nude portrait of me you were going to paint? I thought a nice one of me standing looking at a pornographic picture would be a novel idea. Of course, you would have to paint it landscape to fit all of me in the picture...


> Because I don't do things by halves, I have celebrated by having a bit of a
> soirée which has just come to an end

Not only do you have the temerity to use a fancy word like soirée which I had to look up to be sure it didn't mean the disgusting thing I hoped it meant - instead it is "An evening party or reception" ~sigh~ - but you even had the ostentation to use the accent correctly! Geez, these artist types!


> How have you been?

Missing you! Broken-hearted because I no longer had this psychic link with your heart because you were putting it into your painting. I have been bereft, inconsolable, forlorn, melancholy, cheerless, desolate, and dolorous and I have some sort of bug that is making me feel miserable. Whatcha mean, I'm a moaner?! You asked!

However, now that you are back in psychic contact and I have been put onto antibiotics by the doctor, all is getting better. In fact, by the time I get around to selling my latest project at the Martinborough Fair, my "2006 Calendar Of Sex Positions For The Adventurous", should any lady customers want personal tuition on one of the more difficult positions, I should be able to oblige. Not at the Fair, of course. (I'll bet that gave you an interesting image!)


> Are you surviving the new year?

Survive is about the operative term. My books aren't selling! My motorcycle courses are going wrong. The queue outside my flat of women wanting my sexual attentions has dwindled so much it only reaches the next block and not the Dairy down the road so they can't pass a whiskey along to me to keep my ... er ... spirits up.


> Did you make resolutions?

Yes, to stop sobbing so much. It isn't working.


> Are you sticking to them?

Am I sticking to what?! Women? Good God, darlink! What do you think I am? An anti-woman limpet mine? Listen I only make women go off with a bang. I don't blow them up. (And we will leave blowjobs out of this, thank you!)


> Why not?

I don't blow women up because, (a) it's messy and (b) it's much more fun to have them come than go. Anyway, why all these questions about my sex life? You voyeur, you~!


> Why?

I don't know why you're a voyeur! I'd suggest that you look into it, but that would only make matters worse.


> Anyway, if you are off to Martinborough Fair for another dose of sunburn I
> suggest you wear one of those handkerchiefs with a knot in each corner. Not
> a good look but it obviously works as nobody would wear one otherwise.

Darling, the knotted handkerchief is the plebby English look. I have a cowboy hat that I can (and usually do) wear. It accentuates my blue eyes and makes women putty in my hands. Then again, have you ever tried making love to putty? It's no fun, I tell you!


> Oh dear, have you every tried to type with tiddly fingers?
> It is not easy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I make your fingers go all tiddly?! Well, I suppose that's better than you making some part of me go tiddly. A man really can't do much when some part of him is tiddly.


> I am still alive. I am still well and I hope you are in the same condition.

Oh yes, I'm still alive but I'm not sure about my chances of staying that way after you've read this email...


> Keep the correspondence coming in. I love it.

Darlink, in the flesh (and even with clothes on!) I am even better than my correspondence. You really are going to have to pop over here and meet me. Admittedly, petrol has just risen in price, but I could teach you to ride a motor scooter while you are here and you could become fuel economic.

Your sister says she wants me to teach her to ride a motorcycle. I might add that every time I try to pin her down (Er ... I'll rephrase that!) ... get her to make a day for a lesson she suddenly goes very quiet. It's obviously all just a fantasy for her. Then again, I'm used to women having fantasies involving me. It's when they involve a sharp knife and my genitals that I worry.

Well, enough from me before I say something outrageous...

Remember, I'm right here waiting (just look under my bed).

Love,

--
Allan