Wednesday, 9 December 2009

Homme Toujours

Tomorrow our very own 'campus courtesan' will continue her account of life on the game as an undergraduate student. And I think that you will find it gripping.

But today we want to offer the other perspective - that of the 'trick' who is prepared to pay for sex. Today's blogger calls himself 'Homme Toujours'. He describes himself as a professional, married man with mild cocaine, codeine and valium dependencies. And he is also happy to admit that he pays weekly visits to prostitutes in the Bloomsbury area of London. This is his contribution:

"I always head for Bloomsbury, an area packed with student prostitutes. I've always preferred hookers with degrees, or at least those studying for degrees. Not only is the conversation better, but the sex is more adventurous: These ladies have read stuff like de Sade and are pretty open minded.

Tonight I'm on my way to someone called Arabella, and she describes herself as a third year English with Drama student. I imagine that, because she must surely aspire to becoming an actress, this probably makes her a glamourous twenty something who fancies herself as an Ophelia or a Juliet. I also wonder whether the drama angle might offer some 'value-added' when it comes to role play. I hope so.

I creep furtively down to the basement of a four story Victorian terrace house near Gower Street and ring once. The door opens and a mature woman appears. I presume that she is the madam. She leads me through the dimly lit flat to the bedroom and asks me what I want. It now dawns on me that she actually is Arabella. "For some reason, I had you down as younger," I say, hoping that she won't take offence. "You know, being a student and all that."

"Yes?" she replies. "Well I am a mature student."

"I see," I say. "Well there's never a right or wrong time to start studying, I suppose."

Then I realise that she looks familiar, very, very familiar indeed. The penny drops - she is the spitting image of the German Chancellor, Angela Merkel. This is not what I imagined at all. And I certainly cannot see her as an Ophelia, or a Juliet for that matter. Her academic pursuits must be just that - academic - I decide.

I sit on the edge of the bed for a while, trying to think long and hard about what I actually want. Then I decide that I have to pop the question. "I hope that you do not mind my saying. But you do bear a remarkable resemblance to the German Chancellor, you know, Angela Merkel."

And she gives me a withering look and then says, "Yes, didn't you know? That is exactly why the gentlemen come to see me."

to be continued....

Rogue twaddle

Gordon Brown's son has denied that the garbled 'tweet' on his mother Sarah's account was sent by him. It was originally assumed that the three year old had sent the incoherent rant about David Cameron. But it transpires that the Prime Minister, who is prone to unintelligible tirades, sent the message. It is also denied that the 'tweet' was simply a cheap publicity stunt designed to raise awareness of the danger of cheap publicity stunts...