You know how it happens. You sign onto Twitter. You start tweeting.
Mohamed, your IT director, makes a recommendation, and you find yourself following TinkabelleTease, who offers such gems as:
“Had to hot foot it back to Mayfair to give a newly divorced fella a porn star experience which was a great laugh, and then … ”
and
“I met Father Christmas, and my gift was an orgasm. I did not tell him I have been a bad girl but I think he knew.”
Tink, in case you’re confused, is a high-class prostitute based in London, and she appears to be the real thing (apart from her job, she shops at Waitrose, visits the bank and enjoys reading Martin Amis). One afternoon she notes:
“Well I spent some of my morning with my VIP who I teabagged and fucked until he asked me to marry him, one of these day I will yes!”
Teabagging? Teabagging? What, pray tell, is this? I am confused. Naturally, I google it, and am horrified at what I find — almost as horrified as I was when I looked up bukkake after a colleague mentioned it over coffee back when I worked in Sydney. I update my Facebook status accordingly, as one does; one male friend asks whether I am now going to look at the world through Russian goggles.
I tell another male friend that I have just learned what teabagging is, and am appropriately traumatised. Oh, teabagging? he says. Ja, I know that. I’ve done that to people.
He explains that it’s the sort of thing that gets done when guys are alone together, and alcohol is involved. Things like throwing faeces, funnelling beer through someone’s bum crack and forcing others to drink it, competitive vomiting and other things too revolting to mention.
For some reason, this reminds me of the behaviour of chimpanzees in a zoo, and I wonder: could you imagine women behaving like this? Would a group of women get together, get drunk on Archers Aqua, hold boob-squeezing competitions and wave their fannies at each other? I have a suspicion that they wouldn’t, mainly because they have better things to do.
Granted, I have never witnessed an Essex girl hen night, so perhaps I am making all sorts of politically incorrect assumptions.
This completely OTT Bacchanalian streak in men is something that I find perplexing. Maybe it’s the dark side of all that male drive and ambition that’s supposed to have propelled humanity from grass huts to towers of glass.
Camille Paglia, where are you?
It’s a mystery. What I do know, now, is that teabagging refers to something other than making a cup of Five Roses. And that somehow, I wish I didn’t.
Lol…SB note that it takes two to teabag!!
Sarah, if “teabagging” squiks you, don’t look up what a rusty trombone is….
@Sarah,
How did you come up with this blog? Sies!
And just as I write about how women don’t go in for the kind of dumb things that men do, I read this:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8352711.stm
“Elegant-looking labia”? Whatever next?!
Satire is meaningless.
I have seen girls behave like that first hand in England and Wales…it happens!
Better teabagging than tossing salad, I should think.
(There’s going to be a lot of red faces when they look *that* one up.)
To be fair, most of us at our male school were a little horrified at that kind of behaviour, which seemed to be par for the course at the boarding house. One of the worst practices was putty-rubbing, in which an unfortunate is held down while a brute straddles his face with an unwiped backside.
Yes.
I’m afraid for the vast bulk of us heterosexual chaps, this brand of drunken genital hi-jinkery dangerously skirted the borders of Gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that), and so we left it to the rugby players; the guys who were comfortable grappling each other while getting sweaty in little shorts and taking showers together.
I recall having this conversation with an alpha type.
“And so we rubbed Deep Heat on his balls! Haha!”
“Wait, you rubbed his balls?”
“Haha!”
I don’t think the implication sunk into his impact-thickened skull.
Just bear in mind: Rule 34. I’ll leave you to google that.
At 48 I thought I was reasonably well informed in general. Usually I would be somewhat disappointed for not knowing something so sort of trivial and seemingly common, but in this instance I am pretty glad of my ignorance.
Not sure what you are doing hanging around with male friends like the one you mention , but I ain’t never heard of, or known anyone that does the infantile f*****d up things that he and his mates do, or any of the other wierd stuff. I think you need to choose your friends more carefully.
We don’t do teabagging. However, whilst I was still asleep the kids once stapled my scrotum to the bedcovers and then yelled “fire!”
With apologies to Billy Connoly
Twitter is fast catching up with facebook in the popularity stakes and its creators are now in Forbes mag. Twitters get worked up so quickly.
I loved it when Oprah told the Twitters who said they liked her weave: “It’s not a weave. It’s my own hair!’.
I’m just waiting for someone to twit about Jessica Simpson’s weaves. They look so much better than Paris Hilton’s.
lol…………having spent 10 years in the spiritual home of all the dumb blondes (Essex) , i also had no clue what tea bagging is and i dnt want to google it .