Found me old porn stash today. Can’t tell you where, I’m afraid. Ok, I can. Stuffed in the waste bag of Selina’s stand-by vacuum cleaner. Last place she’d look.

Truth is it’s the last place I’d look as well. Hadn’t seen them or the aforementioned hoover in years. Tripped over the fucker in the middle of the night when I accidentally went for a piss in the storage cupboard. But that’s another story.

Anyways, it’s been a long time since me and me tapes spent some time together. So I’m sitting here drumming (my fingers!!) waiting for Selina to go out. To the nail bar. To her mum’s. Anywhere!

And she’s taking her bloody time. Knows something’s up. At last the front door bangs shut and she’s gone. But I knows she suspicious, so I wait. Sure enough, 3 minutes later, she’s back. Forgot her lipstick. Well my lipstick is still firmly in me pants which are definitely not yet round me ankles.

There’s no second chances with Selina so this time when the door bangs shut I know she’s gone out proper. Belt off, pants down and a hop, skip and jump to the TV. Old taped friends in me paws. Pet Shop Pussy, I have missed you.

Then, guess wot? Of course you’ve guessed it. We’ve no longer got a fuggin VHS player. Swapped it down the pub ages back for some snide smokes. Bollocks.

Self pleasure sure ain’t wot it used to be.

Here is my dream business idea. The ‘You’re a Bad Boy Bunny Food Sex-line’.

I dial an 0800 number. Selina sits in a darkened call centre. She wears only a satin negligee.  She answers the phone seductively. “What menu would you like tonight, sir?”

I know the answer before she asks the question.

“Harvester, please. Read from the ‘Grills, Sauces and Sides’ menu. Slowly. And randomly.”

And so she does….

“Original ½ Spitroast Chicken  £7.49

12oz rump steak  £13.99

Full Rack of Classic BBQ Ribs  £11.49

Rings and Wings  £2.99

Sticky Jack Daniel’s Combo  £12.99

Herb Infused Lamb……..”

On the other end of the line I am infused. My arteries harden like kryptonite. Then she ‘doubles me up’ with an additional “Back Bacon and Guacamole 8oz Scottish Beef Burger”.

My pepper is stuffed. With extra sauce. Sour Cream and Chive.

Apocalypse Cow sure ain’t wot he used to be. In fact he ain’t even a cow. He’s a cross dressing bull. And there’s contraband in them there udders. “Get ya treats from ma teats” as he likely to say. A lot.

The boy is ex army. SBS. Special Bull Service. Played a prominent part in the Falklands. Advanced surveillance ops. They weren’t cows on those hillsides. They was SBS.

Anyways, Apocalypse did a spot of service in the desert flying a copter gunship. And then, like all good special forces, he went a bit rogue and started moving contraband. That’s where the false udders came in handy. Takes a brave boy or girl in Customs to glove up and squeeze them.

Me and the Cow have been mates for many years. Can’t tell you how and why exactly. It’s officially secret. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Or he would at any rate.

Safe to say though that the Cow is now semi-retired. He’s moved down to Brighton. They like big butch cross dressers down there. He does a bit of work on the door of a place called the Bull’s Dog.  An’ if he takes a shine, he’ll give ya ‘a treat from one of his teats’.

Good news.  The Cow is comin’ up our way later this week. We’re going to some posh burger bash in good ol’ Camden Town. Apocalypse wants to test that the beef is really top notch 100%.

And let’s face it, he should know.