Bubble and Squeaks: Greeks

P1100457‘English?’ asked a jolly Greek border guard. ‘What are you doing here? It’s miles! Oh, heavy metal? How funny. Can we see the guitars?’

If you remember from a few weeks ago, a Balkan policeman had just woken me up and advised that I push off sharpish. Bandits were afoot there, apparently.

Had I lingered in Bulgaria, my prospects barely hung by a fraying thread. Diesel – and possibly my bottom – were potential nocturnal targets, so I’d fired up the truck and whirled off as though a ticking bomb were attached to my coattails.

P1100500That was Bulgaria. The general tenor of the place had felt unsafe; one doesn’t like all this talk of Mafia baddies. One seeks sweetness and light instead, as PG Wodehouse might have said. Well, what a marked contrast now.

Greek Holiday

These Greek fellows were positively fizzing: the warmest welcome I’ve ever received. ‘Go thither, Old Thing,’ they seemed to be saying.

‘Take unsuitable mountain passes till you’re blue in the face; tie yourself in knots in pedestrianised squares, by all means. Would you like some moussaka before you leave? How about souvlaki? I’m Stavros, by the way. Welcome to Greece.’

P1100502No trace of petulance over that chap Elgin doing a fast one with a few marbles. Despite being a serious international border, I felt I was in a Dad’s Army sketch. Would they call out, ‘Erm, I say,’ as a Bulgarian tank rolled through? How much nicer could they be?

Greek Bars

‘Oh, do borrow my annual pass to the Acropolis,’ I expected one of them to say. ‘And my brother owns a strip club in Athens. No charge. Drink as much as you like. Bambi and Candice will show you a marvellous time – they go gooey as an egg yolk for a British accent. Do enjoy yourself.’

What they actually said I can’t remember. But they waved me through and, enveloped in diesel exhaust, went back to humming a twee snatch of melody. I had a little over 600km to go.

P1100501The next morning a bus pulled up, shattering the tranquility one enjoys with a morning cuppa. Social butterfly that I am, however, I charitably chatted to an elerly Israeli  before he tripped off to change his colostomy bag in the loo.

Israeli Women

He noticed my Slayer Crew T-shirt and placed a pair of headphones on my head. A few bars of heavy rock blasted out and he nodded encouragingly. Then he canted over sagely and whispered his 70-plus years of knowledge: ‘Come to Israel,’ he said. ‘Such boobs like in Israel you never find.’

You learn something every day, it seems. This news is unsubstantiated hyperbole, of course, but ought I to do some research? If Bambi and Candice aren’t up to scratch, Israel is but a ferry ride away from Athens

What a Cock-Up!..

iva blog4Guys, what are you thinking? Surely you’re not stupid; 95% of the time she – or almost any other woman – just isn’t going to be into sexting the way you are.

Throw in a degree of conversational zigzag by all means. Keep her guessing and hot her up, but DON’T send a photograph of your todger. I really can’t stress this enough.

The intrigue will be finished. That delicate fulcrum on which fate balances will crumble around your sperm-filled sock. So why are so many of you doing it?


To get to the  bottom of this enigma, I rang a chum: one of those lowbrow fellows who drives lorries for a living. ‘Whatho,’ I said, pen and paper to hand. ‘Ever sexted a pic of your knob to a girl’s phone? Was the outcome desirable? And why have you done it?’

‘Of course I have,’ he replied. ‘And, considering I’ve got a girlfriend, I’ve done rather well. Ha ha. What I want is a picture of a girl’s fanny in return.’ Young, you see, and daft as a fencepost.

iva blog1There he is, quivering like a tuning fork, his manhood in a vice-like grip twice a day, and with no concept of the gaping dichotomy between men and women. But he did go on to make an interesting comment.

‘You have to remember that some of these guys are closet picture collectors,’ he continued. ‘Tell her to look closely. She should be able to tell whether it’s a young penis or an old penis.’ Ew! So not only are guys sexting pics, but they could be of somebody else’s tackle? Man’s inveterate fruitiness really is boundless.

Fun and Filthy Phone Play 

iva blog6Girls, before we move to the next interviewee, here’s a tip. The next time you receive an inappropriate photo, try this: Type ‘Wanna see mine?’ and sext a different one back.

Or, after a brief lull from sexting, choose three whoppers from your astonishing medley of willy pics and send them with the following message: ‘God, I’m really sorry. Remind me which one’s yours??’

Anyway, Guy No. 2, a man of integrity, a man engendering respect. ‘No, you can use my name,’ he said. ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ Right, well Paul Ramm has an unusual angle on sexting – he never sends unsolicited photos. ‘But don’t get me wrong, if an opportunity comes up, I’m there like a fucking rocket,’ he enthused.


iva blog5‘What you’ll find, Barnaby, is that it’s the married ones who want to have a look – to see if it’s worth getting caught out for. Me and my mate were doubled up on one once. Her words at the end of the night were, “If Carlsberg made cocks, you two would be it.’

Ah, maybe the dichotomy between men and women is getting narrower, then – in Norfolk. But for the rest of the world, I’m sticking to my guns. Guys, unless you’re aiming to poke an undiscerning Boiler in a lay-by, DON’T send dick pics. It isn’t what women want…

Sexting: Cock-a-Doodle-Doo…

P1000086Guys, I know self-improvement for a man ends at toilet training…but what’s with this sexting business? Why do you feel compelled to send pictures of yourself in various states of arousal to women you haven’t slept with? It’s a particularly inexplicable quirk.

There I was, having a meal with my friend Kate the other night when, Ding, her phone beeped. ‘Another cock pic?’ I asked. She took a slurp of red wine, glanced at her phone and nodded.

‘Yep. Hang on, I’d better tell him it’s big and hard,’ she replied before giving me her attention again. Well, it seemed the deeper I dug, the more I opened a whole can of phallic worms.

Talk Dirty To Me

‘He wants to do FaceTime now,’ she continued. Oh, what happened to good old-fashioned courting, eh? Making overtures and then spiriting a girl through a pantry door. That final dash of ceremony up against the shelves before the butler returned..

Well, technology has opened a new window – a window to a potpourri of willy pictures. Welcome to the lurid carnival of sexual texting. Or sexting, as it’s been dubbed. But inevitably this technology is going to change relationships, isn’t it? People are getting P1000081addicted to sexting. It’s easy to have sneaky phone sex whether you’re single or not.

It’s live; it’s exciting; and the unpredictability of the response is far more motivating than a porn mag. It’s negotiating on the fly, if you like, or rather with your flies open. Flick through any trashy magazine and you’ll see celebrities are being exposed as sexters left, right and centre.

Are You Horny?

‘Essentially,’ I probed, ‘He wants you to get your bangers out on screen, does he?’ She swallowed a mouthful of fajita. ‘Probably,’ she agreed. ‘He’ll sit there and have a wank, I suppose. Oh, and I’ve had videos as well.’ Eh? She didn’t mention that bit before dinner.

‘Yeah, one of him wanking, and another one from a guy called Rob, just gyrating with an erection.’ Who are these guys? What does she know about them? Well, they’re 28 and 30; they’ve messaged her online using www.pofcom; and then she’s given them her number. They’ve sounded nice.

P1070175But, sure as eggs are eggs, during a blizzard of imagined pussy (as Nick Cave once wrote), they send a photo of their manhood standing to attention. And generally from an advantageous angle.

These guys aren’t underconfident or insecure, though. They can hold a phone conversation; they have toned bodies and are proud of them; and I daresay they can waltz a woman out of a bar and into bed. So why are they showing such a misunderstanding of women in the sexting arena?

Quick to Come

The problem, I’d venture, is that when a guy has one hand wrapped round a super-powered hard-on from Krypton, he tends to lose foresight. He forgets that, although women certainly get off on fantasy, they don’t actually want knob pics delivered to their phones.

How does Kate feel when she receives an unsolicited cockshot by text? Disappointed? Let down? ‘Yes, I  just instantly think, “Oh, this is just a sex thing.” Maybe it makes me feel a bit naive sexually. You know, should I be turned on by that? Maybe it turns some women on, so why not me? Should I be getting used to this new technology?’

P1100332-001Well, is she alone? Later that evening, I had a ring round – to see how rife this practice is. And it is rife with a capital R. Every woman I spoke to had been sent a photo of a cock at some point. Next week, let’s speak to some guys about why they do this, but I’ll leave you with a quote from Adele:

‘Tell me about it, sure I have so many pics saved on my phone, in all different shapes, sizes and colours! haha  But I much prefer the real thing!  What a turn off getting sent a pic like that……men are feckin eejits!!’

Ladies, help me out with this one. Have you been sent lewd pics? And how did they make you feel? Comments below, please.