Seventy-two Virgins

by Steve Martin

New Yorker January 29, 2007

Virgin No. 1: Yuck.

Virgin No. 2: Ick.

Virgin No. 3: Ew.

Virgin No. 4: Ow.

Virgin No. 5: Do you like cats? I have fourteen!

Virgin No. 6: I’m Becky. I’ll be legal in two years.

Virgin No. 7: Here, I’ll just pull down your zipper. Oh, sorry!

Virgin No. 8: Can we cuddle first?

Virgin No. 9: It was a garlic-and-onion pizza. Why?

Virgin No. 10: … so I see Heath, and he goes, “Like, what are you doing here?,” and I go, “I’m hangin’ out,” so he goes, “Like, what?” …

Virgin No. 11: First you’re going to have to show me an up-to-date health certificate.

Virgin No. 12: Hurry! My parents are due home!

Virgin No. 13: Do you want the regular or the special?

Virgin No. 14: I’m eighty-four. So what?

Virgin No. 15: Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Virgin No. 16: Even I know that’s tiny.

Virgin No. 17: “Do it”? Meaning what?

Virgin No. 18: I’m saving myself for Jesus.

Virgin No. 19: Somewhere on my body I have hidden a buffalo nickel.

Virgin No. 20: Don’t touch my hair!

Virgin No. 21: I hope you’re not going to sleep with me and then go sleep with seventy-one others.

Virgin No. 22: Do you mind if we listen to Mannheim Steamroller?

Virgin No. 23: Are you O.K. with the dog on the bed?

Virgin No. 24: Would you mind saying, “Could I see you in my office, Miss Witherspoon?”?

Virgin No. 25: Ride me! Ride me, Lucky Buck!

Virgin No. 26: You like your vanilla hot?

Virgin No. 27: Does Ookums like Snookums?

Virgin No. 28: It’s so romantic here, dead.

Virgin No. 29: Well, I’m a virgin, but my hand isn’t.

Virgin No. 30: You are in?

Virgin No. 31: Hi, cowboy. I just rode down from Brokeback Mountain.

Virgin No. 32: I’m a virgin because I’m so ugly.

Virgin No. 33: You like-ee?

Virgin No. 34: I’ll betcha you can’t get an erection. Go on, impress me. C’mon, show me. Show me, big shot.

Virgin No. 35: By the way, here in Heaven “virgin” has a slightly different meaning. It means “chatty.”

Virgin No. 36: Sure, I like you, but as a friend.

Virgin No. 37: No kissing. I save that for my boyfriend.

Virgin No. 38: I’m Zania, from the planet Xeron. My vagina is on my foot.

Virgin No. 39: It’s a lesion, and, no, I don’t know what kind.

Virgin No. 40: I’m Jewish. Why do you ask?

Virgin No. 41: Hi, I’m Becky. Oh, whoops—you again.

Virgin No. 42: I just love camping! Camping is so great! Can we go camping sometime?

Virgin No. 43: In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m a single mom.

Virgin No. 44: You like my breasts? They were my graduation gift.

Virgin No. 45: When you’re done, you should really check out how cool this ceiling is.

Virgin No. 46: I’m almost there. Just another couple of hours.

Virgin No. 47: Get your own beer, you nitwit.

Virgin No. 48: No, you’ve got it wrong. We’re in the Paradise Casino.

Virgin No. 49: I really enjoyed that. Thank you very much. Gee, it’s late.

Virgin No. 50: You make me feel like a real woman. And after this is over I’m going to find one.

Virgin No. 51: What do you mean, “move a little”?

Virgin No. 52: Not now, I’m on my BlackBerry.

Virgin No. 53: I love it when you put on your pants and leave.

Virgin No. 54: We’ve been together twenty-four hours now, and, you know, sometimes it’s O.K. to say something mildly humorous.

Virgin No. 55: That was terrible. I should have listened to the other virgins.

Virgin No. 56: I think I found it. Is that it? Oh. Is this it? Oh, this must be it. No?

Virgin No. 57: It must be hot in here, because I know it’s not me.

Virgin No. 58: Those are my testicles.

Virgin No. 59: Did you know that “virgin” is an anagram of Irving?

Virgin No. 60: First “Spamalot,” then sex.

Virgin No. 61: Great! I was hoping for circumcised.

Virgin No. 62: Was that it?

Virgin No. 63: Dang. George Clooney was being reckless on a motorcycle, but instead I got you.

Virgin No. 64: Tonight, I become a woman. But until then you can call me Bob.

Virgin No. 65: They’re called “adult diapers.” Why?

Virgin No. 66: We could do it here for free, or on a stage in Düsseldorf for money.

Virgin No. 67: I’m just Virgin No. 67 to you, right?

Virgin No. 68: Pee-yoo. Are you wearing Aramis?

Virgin No. 69: Condom, please.

Virgin No. 70: My name is Mother Teresa.

Virgin No. 71: I’m not very good at this, but let’s start with the Reverse Lotus Blossom.

Virgin No. 72: It was paradise, until you showed up.

Once again in Bacton

What do Holt, Bath and Brighton all have in common? Yes that’s right they all have a Hampstead Bazaar - well they don’t but they should have. When we were in Brighton last week, terre a terre, blue cheese soufflé and cherries in vodka with chocolate sauce etc etc, we saw in the window of Hampstead bazaar a wonderful quote and autograph from Dame Judi.

‘When I’m in a panic and a hurry to go out, I can’t go wrong if I wear a dress from Bazaar.’

Some ladies require lots of linen slacks, pashminas and throws, just the sort of thing you see.

‘Timeless - ageless, unpretentious and very comfortable’ Rula Lenska

Brighton wasn’t all free Sancerre and Jacuzzis though. I was also introduced to the all-in-one shrug; the lady gave a full stewardess stylee demonstration of its fashionable versatility, and introduced us to Mustachio "Fur" Yarn. I’m hoping there’ll be bringing it out in a bat wing next season.

What else did I do on my holidays? Well yes then there was Leamington of course which was all good. Expensive wine drank with the doctor and Big E asking me over and over again 'what was the name of that girl we thought Joe was going to marry? In fact I think the first thing she said to me on arrival was 'You're not married yet are you'. Not sure whether it was a question or a statement. She will usually say 'You're not really keen on girls are you', to which I will say no, and then ask her about skirt lengths just after the war to get her off the subject. My mother tells me that she has been fully informed as to the way god made me on a number of occasions. But let me tell you when I'm 98 I'll be a lot more ga ga than simply asking what colour an aubergine is repeatedly. 'Did you know the London's been turned into flats?'.

'Do I like Cauliflower cheese? Yes
'Am I having it?' No

So to Bacton with the assistant, and one of the most relaxing times I have ever had. So there we were, having a lovely walk on the beach, communing with the big mother M herself, introducing Justin to the glories of the Norfolk Coast when all of a sudden our ear drums start bleeding. Feral children screaming their Cyclops style warnings to sailors running onto the beach afore us. You’d have though that her little brother was drowning, but it was only a bucket and spade a drift in a puddle (blood curdling scream no. 1). And we think she was indicating to her mother that she was in need of another pasty – a la seagull chick (blood curdling scream no. 2) . I think at age 9 and the size of a small family car a rocket salad would have been more appropriate. I’m just concerned that when she grows up I don’t think anything is Hampstead Bazaar is going to fit her at this rate.

I suppose fashion will have moved on by then anyway, as you know I’ve got everything crossed for the imminent return of the bat wing in Mustacio. I can’t promise anything though so don’t get too excited or throw out your duffle just yet. Talking of duffles do you like my new coat?

If you get the chance please go and enjoy Blickling Hall as we did, on a fine sunny September day, it is a place of joy.

All this being on holiday has led me to screaming lip them! lip them! and falling onto the floor doing bicycle stylee leg kicking in euphoric mania. Seriously how I ever found time to go to work I'll never know. About halfway through last week I reached the leave nirvana or optimal holiday relaxation plateau. It is a state you can only reach when you have three weeks off, as it can only happen in week two if there is a week three. I just suddenly realised I felt moderately sedated and in a state of extreme contentment. Fan bloody tastic.

So what else have I got for you? Well most importantly in the scheme of things I have been growing a beard. You need a good stint away from work to undertake such a project as there are long periods of trampness, but all in all I think it is coming together finally. Z approved, and contstantly stroked it, and the J is a big fan, so I think it is here to stay.

Well I think that's enough, I don't want you all getting over excited or putting your backs out or any such thing. Apart from we have been practicing for Christmas by having bread sauce with our supper and watching movies with snow in them. Do try it, and wear a nice scarf whilst you're at it. You know you want to.

All the best from the west and Toodles.

WHG III xx

Where are the men?

It has been brought to my attention that this blog has too many picture of GIRLS in it. I have reviewed the accusation and find the charge proven.

In order to correct this oversight, and start to implement my new photographical gender equality policy I hereby present you with a man, please feel free to enjoy him in all his glory.

Don't you know nobody's 21 anymore!

My life as a Vegetarian

Well yes I am you see, there's no hiding from it. I am a vegetarian, and I'm proud of it. My mother didn't make me a vegetarian, although she did repeatedly make me a lovely tomato and onion dish (fried onions and tomatoes) in lieu of all the Henry the VIIIth stylee banquets the meaties got. And I wasn't driven to hide my non vegan lactose lifestyle from society as a side effect of my Catholic upbringing. I have generally been tolerated and supported and treated as an equal amongst men (and ladies).

As some of you know, my brother Joe, for that is his Monika is also a vegetarian. Not unusual to have two in the family these days, so the statistics show. Joe is currently cross country with the mater and sister 3. They have been enjoying the delights of a Norfolk mini break, ensuring that all is in place for the JW visit in a couple of weeks. They have also been eating. The ladies in question are obsessed with food and have even been known to argue away the health risks of a cooked breakfast with an over focus of the superfood nature of a grilled tomato. Some would say it runs in the family! In order to maintain the theme and keep calorie levels up, the Audi was pulled off at a little chef, probably, but this is unconfirmed, on the A47 at Acle (yes you're right, they're not keeping the class 47s at Crewe anymore).

Before I go on, dear meat eating majority, I must just say a few words about food equality. What vegetarians want is the same as you are having. If you are having a full Sunday roast, we don't want to have pumpkin risotto; we want a roast dinner too. If you are having sausage and mash, we don’t want guiche, new potatoes and a runner bean. We want what you want. If you are having pie and chips we want pie and chips. Please don't forget this when cooking for your vegetarian friends. We just want a meat free version. Give us a Sunday roast, but with a bit of nut loaf in lieu of the game, vege banger and mash is just as tasty, and a low fat alternative to filling your gut with red meat, etc etc etc. The other wonderful thing about vegetarian food is that it can be eaten by all types of people, even foreigners and old people.

So back to the plot. Bro is pulling himself off into a little chef. Once in he orders vege bangers and mash. Well hoorah, they have been listening to my prayer, Jesus is a vegetarian after all, as well as a married homosexual and lover of taxmen, and bald people. A big warm hand for little chef and their equalities drive.

Oy Vey Maria!

But no the joy is short lived. The CSE shunning, Alan Partridge imitating retards have got it all wrong. Brother is informed............

"Just so you know sir, the vegetarian sausage and mash comes with non vegetarian gravy."

In other news, Brighton has been added as an additional holiday destination. I think I'm up to a 4 centre break now, and looking forward to the delights of my fave restaurant Terre a Terre on East Street. The metropolitan police have been informed about our two recent homophobic abuse situations, and LGBT liaison officer is working with the neighbourhood team as I type. So hopefully the appropriate immigration and sterilisation controls will soon be put in place.

Do remind me to tell you about the time I was chased round a club at the tender age of 18 by Leigh Bowery in full light bulb drag! It was a close thing I can tell you.

Al the best from the west and Toodles.

WHGIII xxx