The Spanking Writers

Tuning in to watch “Doctor Who”* last night, I caught the end of the amateur dancing competition “Strictly Come Dancing”. I never watch it, but maybe I should: before my very eyes a guy contestant threw the girl contestant over his shoulder and mimicked spanking her sparkly-dressed bottom. That’s right, spanking: it wasn’t just one smack, but a rather extended – if somewhat over-acted – piece of pervery.

The best part was the reaction of the audience: they broke out in loud cheers. As soon as his hand landed the first time.

I should be going into a feminist rage, but I can’t summon up the fury.

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* Please, don’t let anybody but Russell T. Davies write any more episodes. Seriously. Even if the episodes are going to be full of schoolgirls and weirdo alien headmasters.

The FBI is apparently hunting a bank robber who’s struck at least six times in Chicago since September (report, The Times, yesterday). The suspect “weighs 18 stone, walks with a limp [and] uses a cane.”.

They didn’t mention a British accent, but one might speculate…

Anyway, I thought I should reproduce this, as a blog-based public-service announcement. If we have any readers in the Illinois spanking scene, please can you call the police immediately if you know any rattan-wielding, unsteady-on-their-feet, *extremely rich*, larger gentlemen?

PS apparently Mr. Scolari (see yesterday) has now declined the offer of the England soccer job. I’m assuming the national women’s team read my post and filed an objection.

Felipe Scolari, the England soccer manager-designate, quoted in The Times this morning on team discipline:

“Sometimes I have to play the role of a father who punishes his children.”

Any Beckham-spanking fantasies out there?

Even the guy’s name makes him sound as if he should be a Headmaster!

I sincerely hope that they give ‘Big Phil’ responsibility for the England women’s team as well…

There’s a pop group called “the boy least likely to”, apparently. Now I like to keep up-to-date with music (is it too sad to confess that I still listen to the new top 40 chart on a Sunday, even at age of 38?!). But I must confess that I’d never heard of this band until I saw the advert for their new single, entitled ‘be gentle with me’.

Their designers had used lower-case throughout the ad. So I actually read it as one sentence: ‘the boy least likely to be gentle with me’.

A ‘how to spot the spanko’ song?

Then I realised.

Maybe I’m not quite so up-to-date with my musical knowledge as I’d thought.

PS I turned on a couple of pages to fund that the band Dirty Pretty Things are being supported by The Paddingtons. Awwwww (lots of cute Paddington bears singing) was quickly superseded by grrrrrrr (can’t be Paddingtons plural: there’s only one Paddington).

It’s been a very English day: a few hours watching a cricket match locally, and then home to administer a caning.

Haron’s home: time to deal with the gas meter incident. She’ll post about it to The Punishment Book, I’m sure (indeed, ‘or else’), and I don’t want to steal her thunder. But a few words from the safe end of the cane might interest some.

The lecture, first, as I held her very tight. How she’d been given chances; how I’d been lenient; how that hadn’t worked and the time for leniency was behind us. We talked about trust: promises made after her previous caning, subsequently breached. How I would be punishing her severely.

She was sent to the spare bedroom, to stand in front of our school desk waiting for me. I selected a cane: one that I knew would imprint my messages effectively. She didn’t turn when I entered the room. I made her lower her trousers and knickers to her ankles, and lean forward: the desk is at just the right height to position her perfectly.

And then I caned her. Twelve hard strokes, marking her: each white stripe transmuting chameleon-like into red to match its predecessors. Plenty of time between each blow. The occasional stroke of her hair or back, to help her through it. Hard strokes. Very hard.

She was brave. She always is. A good girl at heart.

How I love her.

I’m flying home today. (Leaving home to go home – don’t get me started on the weirdness of this.) I’ve got a punishment to come when I get there. A caning, I guess. Every time I think that the physical part of a punishment is no big deal – after all, we’re all grown-ups with great capacity to withstand pain, so it’s the psychological aspect of being in trouble that should feel the worst – well, it just doesn’t work like that after all. I’m going to get thrashed, and my insides are all awobble.*

I hope it’s not *right* after I get home, though. I won’t get there much before 11pm, which will be 1am on my sleepy body clock. Much as I hate waiting for a punishment, I’d rather not be exhausted when it happens.

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* Is that a word?

My friends took me to a new eatery in Kiev, a place called “Trali-Vali” on the Shevchenko Boulevard. The walls are painted to look like a child’s drawings (a very artistically gifted child’s drawings), with captions: “This is my brother. He wants to be a professional footballer.” And so on.

Guess what I kept imagining on the walls.

“This is my teacher. He keeps a tawse in his desk. It really hurts.”

“This is my mum. When I’m naughty, she smacks me with a brush.”

Honestly, can’t take me anywhere.

I always think it’s a shame that we’re not given a public holiday to celebrate our national saint. Although I am not religious, and therefore don’t believe in saints, I do believe in holidays… Perhaps I should give Haron a good English caning to mark the festivities. Shame she’s away.

Indeed, we could start a cycle of the saints of Great Britain: a belated caning when she gets home for St. George, then a tawsing on 30 November celebrating St. Andrew, followed presumably by a good daffodilling for St. David next 1 March.

Jonathan Ross, the prime time (and highly paid) chat show host was interviewing Dita von Teese last night about her new book “Burlesque and the Art of the Teese”. (Nice title).

I’d not seen the young lady before, but was besotted immediately: incredibly sassy, drop-dead gorgeous.

Ross pointed out that there are actually two books in one: one cover being entitled ‘Burlesque’ and the other ‘Fetish’. He opened the book…

Ms von Teese (‘Dita’ seems too familiar…): “I notice that you opened the ‘Fetish’ side”

JR: “I’m an Englishman. I have that kind of taste.”

MvT: “Yes, the English are the most perverted nation on earth. You and the Germans.”

Madam, I can assure you, we are *far* more perverted than the Germans.

I wonder whether Haron will object if I invest some of our scarce pounds in said book before she returns home?!

(Mr. Ross, incidentally, was 28 when he married 17-year-old Jane Goodman. Just thought you might be interested to know).

There’d been a near-caning on the BBC earlier, too. Smith & Jones, the comedians, showed a brief clip of an old sketch: uniformed schoolboy bent over next to Headmaster’s desk. Headmaster flexing cane. “This is going to hurt you more than it will hurt me.” “Yes, Sir.” Headmaster puts cane down, runs forward, and leapfrogs over the boy through a window.

Too surreal for me, but my schoolmaster’s gown is twitching in the wardrobe, waiting for Haron to return home.

Just came across a blog entry called “Investment Spanking”. On a site called “Fishspanking”. Clearly, fish are not what they seem.

Fishspanking is by its nature a risky activity and may result in the loss of all or part of your fish. Certain types of spanking may not be suitable for all, and anyone considering spanking with fish should first contact their nearest IFA (Independent Fishspanking Adviser) who will be able to assist them in selecting the most appropriate type of spanking. NEVER SPANK WITH MORE FISH THAN YOU CAN AFFORD TO LOSE!

Fine. I won’t.

(“And then chop down the mightiest tree in the forest… With this herring!”)

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Fish?