The state-sponsored Mediterranean Social Forum “demonstration” for “a conflict-free, peaceful Mediterranean” began with a huge punch-up between the Moroccans and the Saharouis, so I was reasonably optimistic that one of the post-march bands, Les Boukakes, would indeed stage a “sexual scene where many men masturbate on and give a ‘semen bath’ to a willing submissive”…
If you’re into the whole Borghild thing (and Wikipedia isn’t yet), then you really should try the surgical & secondary care products of Limbs & Things.
If you thought Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa was unlucky, try Pedro Fernandez De Quirós, who didn’t discover Australia and thus wasn’t an Afghan Muslim. Fortunately he was nuts.
Our favourite Gibraltan gamblers have already been discussed at Fark, but thanks anyway to my usual forwarder of filth for the tip. (See yet another f*$#&@! learning experience for a name-game perspective.)
The novel is progressing. I’ve hit the 50K mark and plot and characters are showing signs of improvement, partly because I’m putting a bit more time into research and a bit less into peripatetic weird shit collection. One of the puzzles I’m working through at the moment is the lack of a sub-Saharan chiliastic movement…
Gerald Howson in The Flamencos of Cadiz Bay claims that the satirical periodical, El Codorníz (The Quail), once published a front page spread of Anglo-Saxon ladies in bullrings and remote mountain villages headlined, “WHERE DO THE ENGLISH SPINSTERS GET THEIR HATS?”