Tuesday, 27 October 2009

Foof Alert! Mariah Releases New Single

Yesterday afternoon, one had seen to all of one’s important mail and agony questions in one’s Study. Chu Me took the embroidered silk satchel, containing the replies to be posted, and opted for GUSSET 3 to carry him on his quest to the village Post Office.

At a loose end for a short time, one decided to take a turn around the grounds of Crusty Hall with my loving pussy, Crotchet. There was a hint of rain over the village but Señor Sol was determined to try and force his warming rays through the clouds above. Yet one didn’t feel in any sort of predicament as one thought the moisture in the air could do nothing but add youthfulness to one’s complexion.

After several minutes, Crotchet grew bored and padded stealthily through one’s hedge and into the forest beyond. Crusty was now alone.

In the distance, one saw Gardener’s greenhouse and one decided to make one’s way towards it. After a short pause in the centre of the Enchanted Garden, to refill one’s tumbler at the magnificent nude statue of Mark makes-my-mouth-water Warr (one quick press of the belly button and a filtered flow of gin cascades from his shrouded man biscuit), one continued one’s sashay to Gardener’s flora factory. Today, he was educating his apprentices.

“Don’t let one interrupt you, dear!” I said, as I entered the glazed erection.

Tilting his hat with his hand, to acknowledge one’s instruction, he and his trainee workforce continued in their work.

As one glided around the enormous expanse of Gardener’s secret place, one began to reflect on the outrage one felt at Week 3 of X Factor’s result; there could surely be nothing worse than the voices of the Brothers Grime, John and Edward (review of week 3 to follow), but evidently Crusty was wrong!

At that very moment, while I was pulling off Basil and Gardener was poking his fingers in peat, a familiar ditty transmitted from Radio 2’s airwaves – Gardener’s favourite – and we all stopped and looked at each other in horror.

Mariah Scarey had decided to release a cover version of a classic song for her next offering; ‘I Want To Know What Love Is’ by Foreigner (One thinks a more fitting question would be, I Want To Know What The Hell This Is !). Poppets will surely remember the spine-tingling gorgeousness of the original and I dare say many of one’s readers – those who have swam in the fondue of love – have spent many an intimate moment undulating to its marvellousness.

One suspects the same will not be experienced with Mariah’s offering.

As one listened to her vocal arrangement one was confused. The first half of her interpretation brought nightmarish visions to one’s mind. She attempts to inject an intonation of passion into the piece however, in truth, it sounded more like a half-hearted orgasm, or as if she was sitting in a luxurious lavatory with a touch of constipation and the echoing strains were ricocheting off the exquisite Spanish tiles surrounding her cubicle. As the piece builds to its climax and the final grab-one-by-the-throat series of high pitched squealings pierce the aural canal, it only made one think that the aforementioned constipation had been conquered and an over-enthusiastic bowel release had been accomplished.

All-in-all, there seems a truly gargantuan lack of effort throughout.

As one thought the latest album cover has three Mariah’s splashed across it (as if one weren’t enough), with the expected attack of bosoms (in triplicate) being smothered under and frantically trying to escape from a sheer white dress; this combined with a rising hem line which verges on a dangerous threat of foof exposure.

Crusty has not witnessed the video for her interpretation, but one suspects it will follow in the same vain.

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