Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Ricky Martin - A Proud & Gay Poppet.

an utterly delicious poppet!

One was lying in bed this morning, wrapped warmly in exquisite white Egyptian cotton sheets and engaged in the most delightful dream.

Doctor Christian Jessen and I were alone on a beach in a deserted cove, with the waves gently lapping against the pebbly shore. While he lay there - soaked in Factor 20, absorbing Señor Sol’s rays in a teasingly tight pair of swim-shorts and listening to his i-pod - one was sitting beside him in a charming one-piece bathing suit and wide-brimmed sunhat, busying oneself with smothering his muscled torso with dark chocolate body paint and sliced strawberries.

Just as one was about to feast upon him, with a bottle of chilled Pere Ventura cava, one sensed the giant hand of reality enter one’s state of wistful bliss only to pluck one quickly from within.

The explanation for this unwanted plucking was the revelation on the radio news that lip-dribblingly, Latin-lovely Ricky Martin has confirmed to the world he is gay on his website.

One doesn’t know about one’s poppets, but there was very little doubt in Crusty’s mind anyway. The way this delicious poppet dances is a major giveaway. One has attended many a dreaded “wedding do” and other breed of social function and one has never seen a heterosexual man who can rattle his hips like that. If they even tried it would be a taxi ride to A & E and 3 months in a body cast.
One swears to this day, while watching a performance of 'Livin’ La Vida Loca' on one’s 32 incher, one suffered a black eye when raunchy Ricky thrust his groin forward and let out a guttural “Huh”. The man oozes sexuality from every pore of his epidermal layer.

One, however, is delighted at the news and, now that he has got this off his smooth, muscled pectoral expanse, he can now enjoy an unburdened future with his partner and their adorable children.

May his hips swivel with happiness and contentment for all eternity and the oscillations of his vocal chords resonate beyond time itself.


  1. Devastated. How out of reach does he want to be? Surely living in another country was enough to keep him out of my clutches. Alas, I'll never arrange his stacked heels or go upside inside out with him.

    This revelation begs one question - who does she bang if not him?

    Lady Ophelia the Sad

  2. My Dearest Dame Crusty
    How much of a jolt must this have been for you, poor Darling? Hopefully, less of a bolt from the blue than it undoubtedly was for poor Doctor Christian, who will have perceived the news a mere 216 weeks before your goodself. Poor, poor Sausage.
    I sincerely hope you have the inner strength, not to mention the Playtex finger-tip control, to see you through this shocking revelation. Mwah. x [An Admirer]