NICE GIRLS, NASTY TOBACCO, AND PRAWN CURRY!
These things are connected.
As my regular correspondents know, I often look at my blog stats in order to find out what my readers really want. And of course also to get an insight into their characters.
Over the years, the two most potent search criteria have been Balkan Sobranie - a pipe tobacco regarding which I have been verbose - and Fat Little Virgins.
That last criterium on this blog refers to Dutch-style raw herring ("groene haring", commonly also "haring met uitjes"), but there is reason to believe that that is not what makes the term so interesting to the average internet browsing person at three o'clock in the morning local time.
HUNGRY DESPERATION IN FOREIGN PARTS
The list showcased at the top of this post is what pulled people in over the last twenty four hours. It might be poetry, it has that coherence.
Chinatown Sex Girls, Ennerdale Flake, Netilat Lulav, Extremely Young Girls, Pipe Smoking Girl, Parsi Prawn Patio.
What kind of man would it be that searches for such things as Chinatown Sex Girls, Ennerdale Flake, Netilat Lulav, Extremely Young Girls, Pipe Smoking Girl, and Parsi Prawn Patio at three o'clock in the morning?
I can imagine an unmarried middle-aged Englishman, probably a public school boy, bemoaning his lonesome life in the wilds of Yorkshire, and attempting to find relief on the world wide web. He wants Chinatown Sex Girls, Ennerdale Flake, Netilat Lulav, Extremely Young Girls, Pipe Smoking Girl, and Parsi Prawn Patio.
Exotic and rambunctious lasses, rather like the innocent children he once built sandcastles with during visits to the seaside as a tyke (before he went to Public School and was corrupted). He thoughtfully loads some more Ennerdale Flake pipe tobacco into a battered pipe, as he wonders if a lulav is some zesty new version of the birches and canes he rememembers from the headmaster's study.
Perhaps wielded by 'extremely young girls', whose liveliness and feigned indignation is the more adorable for being so freshfaced and pure, unlike the clapped-out old hags at the local pub, where coarse-languaged yobbos go to negotiate sweaty Yorkshirese humping.
Bah, beer-swilling peasants! Faugh!
Pain, pleasure, tinkly giggles, and the merest sting to the reddened skin.
He blows out a cloud of perfumed smoke as he imagines it. Ennerdale Flake is a peculiarly English perversion, no one else smokes such soapy tobacco.
The world is more fragrant in the quiet of the night. The village drunks have stopped yelling in the streets, no primitive Yorky dipso pees against a wall nearby or vomits loudly and painfully in the alley, all is, finally, still and serene.
What his world clearly needs is a woman who appreciates pipe-smoking literate fellows, much like he is in his more socially adept moments.
A sparkly young miss who herself occasionally indulges in a bowlful.
He'll gladly share his Ennerdale Flake with her!
And afterwards, they'll go to the local Indian restaurant for a bite to eat.
That being lovely large shrimp in a tangy sauce.
Far different from the coarse vindaloo which the pub crowd will be scarfing down later in the evening.
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