English women, then. If you plot all English women as a line graph, you get a high, thin plateau on which they are electrically wonderful; on both sides of this narrow table there's a sheer plunge down to bottomless awfulness. Off in one direction, a vast, cackling pit of Bacardi Breezers and protectively Band-Aided Achilles tendons. Off in the other, well… Christ. As an illustration, allow me to proffer a tale that someone told me the other day.
A fellow was having sex with an English woman. As he's English himself, he'd probably not have made the distinction - if I'd asked at the time, I'm sure he would have said that he was simply having sex with 'a woman' (and also, 'What the hell are you doing here asking me questions? I thought we'd talked about this.'). That she was, definitively, an English woman, however, was soon made apparent. Because, at the key moment in the proceedings, she shouts this:
"I'm coming, actually!"
Arrrrrrrrgh.
I'm coming, actually. You'd climb off, there and then, and go and re-whiten the grouting in the bathroom instead or something, wouldn't you?
Nice. He remarks that he's had his go with English women and will stick with his German lovemate. Now I happen to have a German mother so I can't quite see eye to eye with him about that. But maybe it's different for them. And she's not his mom. That's gotta make a difference.
His bit about English women reminds me of something from Family Guy:
English man: Almost. Almost. Almost. There we are.
English woman: Well done.
Heh. For those of you keeping track, that's from the first episode this year - indeed, after having been cancelled for 2 years. It's called North By North Quahog and is preceded by Peter telling Lois he's watching some "high class British porn." I lurve that show.
