Wednesday, February 17, 2016
The Beckshaft
It’s been a long time since I wrote anything about Mr Becks, the ex-footballer and possible ex-husband of Victoria Spice, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been ignoring him. My females are constantly asking for news about him, which I drip-feed to them like juice from an orang-utan’s armpits. In truth, he isn’t doing very much apart from the usual posing and preening, but that seems to be enough to keep his fans squealing in delight. His twitter page is suggestive of one who prefers to communicate in pictures, but I don’t hold that against him. A picture is worth a hundred hoots, as we say in the jungle.
The good news for collectors of memorabilia is that a sex toy manufacturer has produced a dildo that looks like Mr Becks. His face is imprinted on the business end of the device, but its shape does not match the contours of his body. In short, it is an effigy of Mr Becks in the shape of a phallus. Whether it bears any resemblance to his actual appendage is an open question. Amusing novelty item though it may be, I’d be surprised if many women used it to satisfy their carnal urges. Being an admirer of Mr Becks doesn’t mean you want his head inside your coochie.
Our local witch doctor is worried that enemies of Mr Becks will use the item as a voodoo doll:
“What is to stop jealous rivals sticking pins in the toy to curse him with the stings of The Evil One?” he asked.
“You ignoramus!” I exclaimed. “You cannot stick pins in a dildo. It is made of hard silicone plastic, not softwood from the Umbogo tree.”
“In that case his rivals should be told,” said the witch doctor. “He who breaks pins on a juju charm will have a limp pupuyoo for the rest of his life.”
“I will quote your cautionary words in my blog, so the enemies of Mr Becks will be forewarned,” I assured him.
As for the manager of the safari camp, he snorted in derision when I suggested giving the dildo to his wife as a Valentine’s Day gift:
“It doesn’t even vibrate!” he scoffed. “You can’t fob a woman off with an obsolete toy like that. A plastic dick is still a plastic dick, no matter whose face is on it.”
“I never realised your wife was so choosey,” I remarked. “Perhaps there are other women who will treasure it as a love token of considerable sentimental value.”
Be that as it may, I don’t expect it to sell like hot cakes. Only the most devoted groupies of Mr Becks would consider buying it, and even they might be put off by the embarrassment factor. If very few are sold, I will probably order one myself. It would soon acquire rarity value, and might eventually be worth as much as one of Liberace’s dildos. There’s an opportunity in every flop, as we say in the jungle.
Labels: dildos, juju, Liberace, Mr Becks, voodoo
