Stephen Robins13 Feb 2007

Nothing compounds the shame of having erupted everywhere more than the condescending cooing of a delightfully plump midden dweller. As you lick your fingers the poor man, on his way to an important assignation, must find a way of cleansing his trousers whilst bewailing his lack of moral rectitude and vowing never again to take the short cut through the shambles where the temptation of speedy relief from a brazen young wench is all too enticing.