Friends with Benefits Ruined by Tory Cuts

sex womanMe and my flatmate have been living happily together for the last seven or eight years. The Tory policy to cut friends with benefits, passed this very morning by the House of Commons, has destroyed this. The Liberal Democrats fought this off for as long as they could, but now the Tories have majority there is no hope.  My flatmate and I can no longer afford to have casual, non-committal sex with each other or other people.

Privileges Cut by the new regime:

  • No erotic behavior with friend.
  • No touching of faces with friend.
  • No holding hands with friend.
  • No flirting (including excessive giggling) with friend.
  • No staring intimately for any longer than three seconds with friend.

These activities are no longer funded, and added to that now you have to pay tax individually on each one you exorcise. Me and my flat-mate used to do all five of them, now we can’t afford one! It is a Tory ploy to try and force back the value of traditional marriage, by making people unable to afford the alternatives.  Thus getting rid of what they consider to be ‘underhand’ and ‘dishonorable’ practices.  Well I say, “but-out conservatives!” Marriage and the ‘nuclear family’ are outdated. It is my choice who I sleep with and how I do it. I like one night stands, I like three sums, I like it up the arse, and I like gang bangs and that makes me no less of a decent person.

The Tories made us choose; we had to either become platonic or be in a serious relationship.  I was not ready to have a partner so now we are just friends.I am unable to work or function properly because I am plagued with sexual frustration; I now have to boredgrind on my guitar (it has a neck and a body) let’s hope the Tories don’t start taxing that too.

My life has effectively been ruined and my relationship with my flatmate has also been compromised; Sexual tension is writhe and this then leads to passive aggressive behavior. Just yesterday he asked me to make him a slice of toast and I replied, “Fuck you, just fuck you, you fuckin’ twat,” and last week we had an argument over who used the last of the tooth-paste, and other than the toast incident we  haven’t talked since.  When we were having sex this never used to happen.

single bed

We were forced to get rid of our double bed and swap it for two singles as we were unable to pay the new friends with benefits tax.

What will they take from us next?  They have cut our housing benefits, child benefits, disability benefits, they have destroyed our NHS, raised our tuition fees, compromised the welfare state and there is even talk that they will nullify the European human rights act in Britain. We need to put a stop to these injustices; Together we can bring friends with benefits back!

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The Animal Gaze

From Japanese Folklaw

His eyes were four times bigger than my own and deep-set, like dark brown gems. They weren’t at the front, he had one on each side of his long head; he could see everything around him. Above, were thick brows, they sloped downwards setting his expression to fierce. He stood perfectly still, not an ear twitched and not a leaf moved. It is said that Buddha was first born as a huge dear, where in the forests of Benares he lived his days in peace. I believed this of the dear I saw; he left no footprints, felled no trees; one with the woodland, he even grew two proud trees above his head. I couldn’t imagine him ever not existing. The ground beneath him was mossy and green, and I swear the trees closest stretched out an extra inch.  A white deer is the form of the immortal forest god in Japan, helping things blossom and grow.

We stood, him with his cause dense fur, hooved silent feet and forest crown and me with my rucksack, denim jeans, biro and lined note-book. Were both in the forest, but only he belonged.

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Toad

An amphibious lump has landed upon my lawn; it’s moist, covered in plague -like lumps and bulges outwards at its sides. Ugly, it should delve beneath the surface of my pond.  I kneel down, even its expression offends me; a wrinkled old man, set frown, downward slanting mouth, and pointy face say,

“Get off my lawn!”

The cheek! What a rude little gargoyle. He turns his ridged head to face me. Circles of liquid fire gleam out, copper pulsating round a slit of ebony, like moving fire opals with strands of onyx ink circulating. A cloudy silver film slides down across his eyes. Did he blink? Five clumpy steps and a lazy hop. He’s made it to the pond.

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Julia’s Load

Medium Essential Suitcase HomeJulia had never done this before, and knew it was risky. Very risky. Her throat constricted as she breathed, it felt like she were wearing a tight scarf. She was just one link in a chain. Soon it would be someone else’s problem, until then she’d have to hold her breath. She wasn’t doing it for the thrill, the singular time she’d been on a roller coaster she’d been sick before reaching the summit.  She wanted the money, it was more than she could make in seven years even if she did overtime at her bar job; she could quit it all together. No more serving unruly drunkards and coming back sticking of beer after twelve hour shifts. In the next twelve hours she’d be rich. All she needed to do was go on holiday.

First things first, she had to pack. Her suitcase was a good size; sturdy, black. She’d always disliked coloured suitcases, they were garish, but maybe hers looked unfriendly, suspicious even.

She was over-thinking, she just needed to pack; a pair of leather sandals, good quality, strong.  She dug out her tiny weeny denim shorts from the bottom of a draw; finally, an appropriate occasion to wear them, five tops, six pairs of knickers, her mother always told her to take an extra pair, and a huge bottle of sun cream also made the cut. What else did she need? A towel, Loreal, two-in-one and a Thai dictionary. She’d bought it specially. She put in a zipped compartment in her suitcase, she went to put a box of cigs in too, but left them out. She’d never actually been on a plane before. Well, her mother said they had, to go to Greece when she was four and shown her pictures, but she couldn’t remember.

One more item to be packed, she stared at it on her kitchen table. It was in a large translucent bag, white and chalky. She pretended it was just a lump of sugar or flour. She put it in a black bin-liner, would that make a 10 kilogram block of cocaine less conspicuous? She placed it on top of the packed items and looked down.

She sprang to her wardrobe, grabbed two huge thick coats, stuffed them in, shut the case and zipped it closed. Would coat lining protect it from the x-raying machine at the airport? She wouldn’t need the coats. Perhaps they had metal zips? Would they set the metal detector off? You’re aloud to take metal in suitcases; just not hand luggage, aren’t you? Perhaps she should take them out. She bent down, stopped; best leave the suitcase closed now. She’d been told not to worry; they wouldn’t check a women’s suitcase; that’s why Dean said it needed to be her who took it, not him.

He was picking her up in an hour, he would drive her to Manchester airport; he’d bought the Blondie Platinum CD to play in the car, to make her more comfortable, she loved Blondie. What sort of music did Bonnie and Clyde listen to before a Heists? She bet it was more hard core than ‘Call me, on the line,’ and ‘Maria, I need to see her.’ Dean said he’d done this many times before, he knew what he was doing. She trusted him; when back from holiday they’d be able to get an apartment with the money. That would make her mother happy.

“Nice guy he is that Dean. He’ll do you right he will. Need a nice guy to look after you Julia.”

Julia wasn’t used to this sort of thing; she’d shoplifted once, when thirteen, a lipstick, light pink. When heading to the door she hadn’t been able to look straight and glanced about frantically, then made a dart for it. A shop assistant intercepted her at the door. She’d started crying even before they’d said anything. That was eight years ago, she’d be better, cooler now; all she needed to do was smile, keep her head forward and walk to the plane. Her hands had gone clammy just thinking about the lipstick incident. Her mother had had to pick her up from Super-Drug, her face stern.

“I never want to do that again Julia. We’re better than this, we work for what we take. You hear me?”

Julia had been working, really hard; She’d done a three year degree in Astronomy then gone back to work at her local Pub. She wasn’t getting anywhere. In life you have to make your own luck. That’s what she and Dean were doing. Just once, then they’d have enough to start out. He’d promised to pack in any dodgy stuff after this; she just needed to do this one thing. Her hands were shaking, she was glad she’d left out the cigarettes.

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On The Beach

African_Penguin_RWDWhat are you doing?
Take your sunglasses and oversized flip-flops off!
Oh, they’re your feet,
Well you can walk yourself to the artic with them.
Take your mint, choc, chip ice cream with you,
It won’t melt there.

Stop that!
You can’t slide around on sand,
it’s not slippy!
Ice is.
You’re supposed to be shivering not bathing.
Stop slapping sun-cream on with a flipper,
Can’t even reach your back!
Your white underside’s tuned pink.
Just Get off the beach…

NO, not to swim in the tropical sea!
I’ve heard that cold baths are better for you anyway!
You say you like Sandcastles?
Snow-castles are fun too!
Your hands get cold,
but you won’t get sand between your fingers.
Oh… You don’t have fingers.
Just go back to the artic!

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The Seasons Change, But I Don’t.

Blossom falls on my shoulders like spring snow,
but I can’t escape winter’s long shadow.Four Seasons
Whiskey numbs the body, but warms the heart,
Cupid sent me the poison dart.

I want to climb back through solid past,
to magic moments and make them last,
before smiles stopped, before the row,
I’d swap all that I have now.

Over my summer dress I wear a heavy cloak,
an though the air is clear, it seems I can’t help choke.
I run and dance, sometimes I think I’m free,
Clouds of grey catch up, still they cling to me.

Hope lets them wonder back into my life,
They think they’re being kind, watering my strife.
When Autumn comes maybe my cloak will fall,
I’ll take a breath and that will end it all.

But each time I make the shadowed garment drop,
I quake inside and want to make it stop.
I pick it up, just so I can fold it,
this time I swear, I’m only going to hold it.
 

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FUCK YOU HEART

I don’t need a spark

a singing lyric lark

a golden harp.

I’ll choose someone nice,

keep him all my life,

cut you out with a knife.

Fuck you heart!

I’ll arrange it all my way,

it’ll be ok,

keep love at bay!

I’ll make a checklist

Nice, Clean, Good-looks….

Reads, Listens, Cooks.

I’ll get the perfect man,

with the perfect tan

well, I’ll do what I can;

He’ll have irritating optimism,

because of his part lobotomism,

But I’ll be converted to his niceties

An be the perfect wife-ity

grind my feelings into dust!

get rid of all my lust,

let all emotions rust,

I’ll do what I must.

I’ll hold his hand,

do nice things that we have planned,

Oh, won’t my life be grand?

But you won’t stop fuck’in beating!

Hoping for that one chance meeting.

even if it’s only fleeting.

you’d rather make me sick,

an date an Intellectual dick,

or a moody loutish tick,

I don’t get to pick!

Heart, you make me crazy

misbehavey

a little bit too ravey.

The guy may be

arrogant, disparagent

and ultimately not paramount

Yet he’ll make me giggle

nervous so I fiddle,

feel all warm in the middle.

Fuck you heart!

He won’t like me

He’ll see how crazy I can be!

he’ll ignore me

never adore me

probably never even saw me.

I won’t be able to breathe

no tricks up my sleeve

all I’ll do is greave.

Fuck you heart

Set me free from ache

There’s nothing else to take!

Please give me a break.

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