Showing posts with label Embarrassing Bodies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Embarrassing Bodies. Show all posts

Sunday, 7 March 2010

Doctor Christian Will See You Now.


It was a quiet night and one was sitting in the Aubergine Room at Crusty Hall. One’s dear friend Kitty had called by to celebrate the return of local news reading hero, Colin his-twinkle-makes-me-tingle Briggs, to our screen in the morning.

One feels for the other parts of Her Majesty’s realm that are unable to bathe in Colin’s deliciousness each morning. One often feels it is like lying naked in a warmed room while being wrapped in a sumptuously soft blanket of chinchilla fur (Though one must stress, fur from Chinchillas that have passed away due to natural causes or that have carried a donor card, of course). However, though one feels that pain, one must stress, one’s special poppet is not for sale and anyone who tries to take him from us shall feel the full wrath of the Gusset.

Anyhoo … Kitty was reclining on the sofa by the Royal Worcester display cabinet reading her latest imported copy of Casa y Campo and I was on the sofa opposite with a book of Sudoku. A regular at the Badger’s Snatch had recommended it as a wonderful way to relax, however, after 3 minutes and 21 seconds, one didn’t feel relaxed in the slightest. One’s muscle network felt tighter than Vanessa Feltz’s knicker elastic and thus, with an elegant movement of one’s arm, one projected the book across the room and into the open fire. Kitty looked up from her magazine, “What’s the matter, Crusty?”

“Sudoku, poppet! It’s utterly nonsensical!”

“Would you like me to have Chu Me bring another gin for you?”

“No, thank you, dear.”

Kitty returned to her article and one switched on the television, selecting Channel 4 and Embarrassing Bodies. One began to relax, then suddenly, after an introduction from the gorgeous Doctor Pixie, one felt one’s entire body become as limp and lifeless as Cheryl y-nailed it Cole. One slid from the sofa and down onto the floor like a sack of diamonds and ended up in an unsightly – yet elegantly positioned – heap.

Kitty sprang gazelle-like across the narrow expanse between sofas. “Crusty! Crusty! What’s the matter?” She screamed.

One could see her gorgeous face etched with concern but one was unable to speak. One’s tongue was hanging out the right side of one’s mouth and one felt cross-eyed and delirious.

“Crusty?!” With her medical training taking charge, Kitty lifted the Baccarat crystal tumbler from the coffee table and held it under one’s nose. The magical properties of the medicinal liquid penetrated one’s nasal passage and one began to come round.

“Zogzur Kriz dee un, zear!“ One mumbled.

“What?”

She placed the tumbler to one’s mouth and tipped in a little of the crystal clear elixir. Pulling oneself round, one blurted out, “Doctor Christian, dear! Isn’t he just a dreamy dimpled dollop of doctorial deliciousness?”

“He is indeed. Quite the hotty.” Kitty agreed.

”Do you know, dear, one marvels at how a man so utterly gorgeous, with a body like the statue of David – apart from one small area – can find the time to care and heal the nation’s sick. He’s a blessing to us all.”

And, upon reflection poppets, this is certainly true. This towering mountain of medicinal muscle and his colleagues have done more for the health and sexual education of our nation than any Government over recent decades. Though it is quite easy to find sadistic entertainment in the televised suffering of the masses, one important point is brought home to us; our bodies are unique and we must cherish that uniqueness.

It is expected that most people will suffer problems throughout their lives; some serious; some mild and many embarrassing. Yet, we must always feel perfectly at ease discussing these things with our local medical professional. Why, when one visits the village doctor – Arthur Pedic – one has no hesitation in removing one’s clothes, even when just popping in for a chat … and despite him insisting it isn't necessary.

Having said that, if one were to walk into Doctor Christian's surgery and enter his consultation room, one glinting smile from him would undoubtedly and instantaneously rip the designer fabrics from one's shapely frame in an instant.

“Kitty, dear,” one said, “One has made a decision. One shall rename the Aubergine Room the Doctor Christian Room. After all, aubergines are a colour that symbolizes quality; they have a firm, meaty flesh with a velvety texture and are, most certainly, good for one’s health. One can think of nothing more appropriate.”

“How wonderful!” Kitty cried, “Actually, when you think about it … DCG (Dame Crusty Gusset) … DCJ (Doctor Christian Jessen) … you’re practically related!”

“Quite, dear!” one concurred, “One shall have Chu Me get some wood and whip out his little tool in the morning.”

Saturday, 6 June 2009

Crusty Cures Sweating at Crusty Hall?


Crusty has been feeling a little low this week since Señor Sun slowly tipped his hat and bid farewell for a spell. .

So, instead, I spent more time inside watching television. This week Embarrassing Bodies with the dazzlingly dashing Dr. Christian Jessen; he with the body of finely sculpted marble and the grin that makes one’s apertures blow secret kisses from down below.

As usual there was an array of problems this week; a rotting armpit (so disgusting I had to look away and stroke my Crotchet), a lady with piles (Chu Me had just arrived with a plate of grapes but spun on his little heels and left immediately when he saw it), upturned toes and a young man introduced to us who was having problems with a sore penis.
My attention was instantly aroused and I was eager to help Dr. Christian by offering to rub any required cream on the affected area, but then the young man didn’t appear to be that young at all and as he whipped down his drawers to reveal a little shrivelled sausage, I sat back and thought it better left to a professional.

One segment that interested me greatly was that of the young lady who had a sweating problem. Dr. Christian demonstrated to us how we sweat - by having a good pumping session in a gym - then whipping off his vest ….oh, my! … the shimmering beads of doctor-dew clinging to his rippling [ahem!] …and weighing the removed garment on some scales.

Well, our medical team suggested a remedy for our damsel in distress, whereby hands are placed on mats and an electric current is passed through the body to reset the glands. Here at Crusty Hall, a member of the household staff also has a frightful sweating problem; on hot summer days she is forever dripping over my antique furniture and indeed one finds globules of her bodily residue where one least expects them.

It was at this stage that Crusty has a Eureka moment; My faithful houseboy, Chu Me, brought the staff member to the utility room where I explained I was going to cure her of her embarrassing problem. I asked her to stand in a bucket of water then lightly sprayed her to moisten her apparel. Chu Me and I stood back and asked her to now pick up the two cables at either side of her – one in each hand.

As she picked up the two live cables – oh, did I omit that information? – we waited for the miracle to occur.

5 minutes later we stopped as the treatment wasn’t working in the slightest. The girl was still sweating – more so, in fact – though one suspects it was due to the energy she was using to grit her teeth!