First, dear reader; let us be clear in one thing. When discussing the crude desires of hoi polloi, it is taken as read that your own interests are infinitely more cultured. I take it for granted that you don’t follow this blog for titillation or amatory misfeasance but instead seek to become attuned to my muse. (An old woman in a young girls dress who rants and mumbles obscure verse of uncertain meaning*)
No, we are considering here those lesser breeds without the law whose lives are ruled by their untrammelled bawdy cravings.
You clicked on this page, agog to read about the latest survey whose undreamt of revelations are both shocking and disturbing.
Oh yes, the survey; well you see, with this blog business, I can delve into the stats section and workout how many people view each post.
Some of the posts have been cunning wrought pieces of the masters art, some journalistic exposes of a minor nature, others blatant attempts to sell a few books. (You did know I write books didn’t you? Click on the ‘About’ section now, lest you miss out. There are only so many electrons out there; I’d hate them to run out before you bought your copies.)
And now, looking back on my ceaseless toil, I can tell which posts were best received, most sought after, most loved and admired.
And frankly it is a case of ‘sod literature, journalism and high culture, give us more Marks and Spencer Knicker Adverts.’ (I did think of using that phrase as the title but felt that I’d end up getting hits from those wanting to lay a new lawn)
I’m beginning to feel guilty. Every week, women all over the world, suddenly realising they’re beginning to get threadbare in the Knicker department, desperately search Google for salvation.
Sadly for them, as they sit there growing increasingly draughty around the fundament, they end up being directed to my blog.
Overwhelmed with guilt at the suffering I’m causing, I shall slink off to get myself a spot of lunch
*Sunday morning and already a classical allusion for you to nod knowingly over, whilst you perhaps ponder upon the mutability of fate.