The Spanking Writers

Thanks to our friend Martha for texting us in great glee yesterday to point out the name of the German competitor who was up for the high jump in Beijing yesterday… a certain Herr Spank.

Honestly. He even has a collection of videos on YouTube - but they’re probably not the most interesting you’d ever see if you searched for clips related to our kink!

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The comedian Sanjeev Bhaskar had this to say in this week’s Observer:

I have an OBE, so I can order Meera [Syal, his wife, also a comedian] about, because she’s only got an MBE. She’s a peasant. In fact I believe I’m entitled to beat her with a stick.

Note to self: earn an OBE or a damehood before Abel does.

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Schönbrunn Palace, the summer residence of Austrian emperors, doesn’t lose its ability to amaze. The vast gardens, the baroque interiors, the punishment implements of old…

There was no explanation card for this display, but we concluded that it was the implement for dealing with errant housemaids. It was shown next to maid’s uniform, so what else could it have been?

The museum continued to impress as we walked on to the schoolroom of the Hapsburg princes:

Alas, there were no facilities to try out the implements or recreate the scenes. It was OK, though; we’ll make sure to do that at home.

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Recently we happened to stroll along the bank of the Thames from Tate Modern to the London Eye. There are usually lots of street performers doing their thing along that walk - mainly, live statues painted in silver, but also all sorts of musicians, acrobats and other people with random skills.

One act gathered a crowd so big that I couldn’t see what the attration actually was. I could hear the performer talk to the volunteer he’d just summoned from the audience.

“So, have you tied anyone up with rope before? No? Oh good, I’ll be your first, then.”

…He was an escape artist, in case you were wondering.

On my part, I spent a pleasant five minutes picturing an experienced domme showing up to demonstrate some of her best knots.

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Last weekend we were very amused by two news stories that ran side-by-side.

In the first one, one of the deputies of the Conservative mayor of London had to resign from his post for such a big bundle of reasons that I’m not sure why they actually recruited him in the first place. Queue lots of blushes from the Tories. “But we didn’t know he ate babies for breakfast!” Oh, dear, what a nasty surprise for them.

In the second story, a Tory guy accidentally let slip his party’s secret plan of dealing with any future embarrassments of this kind. “The Conservative Party believes in bottom-up solutions”. Oh, good. Flogged politicians all ’round.

P.S. Did you know there was a Tory MEP called Den Dover? I must admit, I misheard his name at first. I suspect, that’s not unusual.

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Most of you probably know that Haron and I write for the Lowewood blog, set in a fictional school. My darling wife’s a regular contributor, whereas “Unstable Abel” (as the school chaplain was so ungallantly christened earlier in the year) joins in on a rather more infrequent basis.Amidst an array of fine writing on the site, I particularly enjoyed Claudia’s entry yesterday. The paragraph that especially caught my eye was as follows, in the aftermath of a poor test result:

Wearily I made my way to the front and bent over to take the pain for coming bottom. Across my bottom, naturally. Six proper cracks with the strap whilst I clung grimly to the bench, distracting myself as best I could by pondering what would happen if I actually wrenched off one of the gas taps in my efforts to stay down. Would we all have to be evacuated? Could we avoid prep that evening?

Whilst the young lady in the blog entry resisted the lure of the gas tap, I foresaw an alternative ending, in which she did indeed manage to tamper with the equipment. An alarm would ring; her punishment would have to be suspended as the whole school filed out into the playground. No doubt, on their return, the remainder of her punishment would be doubled… at the very least.

My mind wandered still further along similar lines. A girl had been called to her Headmaster’s study to be caned. Her best friend, worried about her fate, would set off a fire alarm; an evacuation of the buildings would ensue. The two girls would find one another in the melee - but it would seem that the distraction had come too late, for the first two strokes had already been administered. There’d be hugs before the pupils were let back in - and the rule-breaker would trek tearfully back to face her Housemaster to receive the remaining four strokes.

Only… their cuddles would have been noticed, and the instigator of the false alarm would find herself called before the Headmaster. Confronted with the allegation, she would break down and confess, and her dozen strokes in assembly the following morning would teach her the most painful of lessons.

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According to a report earlier this month in The Guardian, Pierre Cardin is spending millions in an attempt to turn the small town of Lacoste into a cultural enclave. The place has an interesting history:

Only the imposing, half-ruined castle that once belonged to the Marquis de Sade hints as a darker truth of the feudal rulers who lorded it over the villagers in this south-eastern corner of France… de Sade’s chateau [is] said to have inspired the gothic settings for his novels of sexual perversion.

Cardin has “spent millions restoring the castle” and his plans for the village include “luxury hotels, a top restaurant, a de Sade café and a piano bar.”

A de Sade café?!! The mind just boggles. I suspect that the conditions of employment for the waitresses are likely to be rather strict. And is it too much to hope that one of said hotels might be located in the castle itself, all themed rooms, whips available from room service and “would sir care to make use of the dungeon”?

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…Well, almost. She was in a scandal, and she needs a spanking.

Apparently, Princess Eugenie (aka “the cute 18-year-old one”), was enjoying some end-of-year mischief with her girlfriends when a member of staff woke up:

The tabloid Sun newspaper reported that a college staff member woke to playful shrieks and found several young women dancing around without clothes.

It said there was no suggestion boys were present or that drugs were involved but claimed a pupil said the students had been drinking.

I’m glad that at least one royal is capable of enjoying life without breaking the law or insulting entire nations in the process. Good for her.

…But that was my naughty side speaking. My responsible side says that young Eugenie shouldn’t get away with dancing around naked on the school premises. Obviously, there needs to be some sort of punishment involved.

I wonder if she has a whipping girl? I wonder if the palace is recruiting one now?

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We have found a curious passage in Time Magazine from Monday, Jan. 20, 1941.

Eton College (prep school), on whose playing fields the Battle of Waterloo was said (by the Duke of Wellington) to have been won, was bombed last month. When Etonians explored the ruins, they made a tingling discovery: the famed old “birching block,” over which headmasters had birched (i.e., flogged) boys’ bottoms for generations, was missing.

Although many an Etonian was disposed to let well enough alone, antiquarians searched diligently, eventually found the birching block’s remains in a bomb crater. Last week they reverently picked up the pieces, installed them in the Eton Museum.

I can well imagine some boy, who’d been flogged just before the bombing, looking at the birching block and heartily wishing: “I hope it bloody burns! And the Headmaster with it!”

Then - bang, crash, lots of dust and broken stone, the pieces of the block… The boy looking frantically for the Headmaster: “I didn’t mean it about him burning, I didn’t!”

I bet he would need to go to confession and pay the penance, even though the Headmaster is found alive and intact.

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My teddy bear was pleased with my recent trip to the States, as I brought back a present for him. He’s now proudly sporting an “Obama 08″ badge – which looks a little incongruous on his monk’s habit, it must be said, but bears can’t be choosy.

I was amused to read recently about 95-year-old Charles Edwards presenting said Presidential Candidate (how wonderful to write that!) with a maple walking stick. Obama waved it about, commenting:

“This is a beautiful stick. I really like this. And if members of congress don’t pass my health care bill? I’m ready! I’ll whoop them. I’ll whoop them! That’s right. They better not mess with me. I’ll have that stick.”

Haron is at this very moment preparing her run for Congress - on an anti-healthcare reform ticket.

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