Music Hall Friday
In the news this week was the announcement that Sex Offenders are to be offered the option of Chemical Castration* (and to think I wince at the thought of a chemical peel). Anyways, it’s supposed to cut reoffending rates, but wasn’t that what they said about ASBOs?
Anyways, I’m unsure about the efficacy of the plan. Sexual abuse is as much about the power/control dynamic as the actual sex - which, whilst horrific, is often the first ‘wound’ to heal. The mental scars take longer. Much longer. Much, much longer. And it proves that you don’t need an erection to cause lasting damage. Ask anyone with a Catholic (or Jewish) mother.
Still, lighten up VB. It’s music Hall Friday. So here’s a little music hall ditty inspired by this weeks events….. (*although it doesn’t include anything about putting microships in the mentally ill, which is genius. Genius, I tells ya!)
The Castration Song
(To be sung by a mix of mezzo sopranae and castrati. If you can find them. Or Jimmy Sommervile, if all else fails).
My problem’s not common, I’m told:
I simply can’t fancy the old.
To Kinder, I’m kinder,
And if you don’t mind(er)
I’d like to get under your kin.
For years I’ve been fighting my parts
They rise when I near baby carts
Oh, I’ve strapped it and stropped it
But nothing has stopped it
Now look at the mess that I’m in
So….
Make me a Eunuch, Eunice
Give me a shot; rip ‘em off
They’re
Just a pair
That I won’t miss
More drop ‘em, these days
And less cough.
Neuter me Knackers, Norman
Hack off me parts with a knife
Where once
They were
Is now fresh air
And I can get on with me life
I went to a Doctor Finkle
And said “Doc, I’m ruled by my Winkle.â€
He used a machete.
Now Barry is Betty.
And I have to sit down to tinkle
I really don’t miss much at all
A penis, perhaps, and a ball
I’ve mounted the other
And sent it to mother.
It hangs, now, on the parlour wall.
So….
Make me a Eunuch, Eunice
Give me a shot; rip ‘em off
They’re
Just a pair
That I won’t miss
More drop ‘em, these days
And less cough.
Neuter me Knackers, Norman
Hack off me parts with a knife
Where once
They were
Is now fresh air
And I can get on with me life
I’m no longer turgid – Ye Gods!
At the thought of their hairless young bods
I’ve left their behinds
Now I fuck with their minds
‘Cos we parish priests are mucky sods
I don’t fear police inspection
Or inappropriate erection
(need) No Viagra or oyster
I’ve entered the cloister
And heaven is my new direction
(Last Chorus! Sing up!!!!)
So….
Make me a Eunuch, Eunice
Give me a shot; rip ‘em off
They’re
Just a pair
That I won’t miss
More drop ‘em, these days
And less cough.
One more time!!!!
Neuter me Knackers, Norman
Hack off me parts with a knife
Where once
They were
Is now fresh air
And I can get on with me life