Day Twenty-four

I went to an all boys’ secondary school, which I never thought unusual until recently discovering most of my friends attended a mixed sex school. Thanks to my five years of single sex education, meaning little contact with the opposite sex, I’ve always been a bit bumbling around attractive women.

My secondary school used to put on a big annual musical theatre show at the local theatre, a joint production between Forest Boys’ School and Millias Girls’ School, the only time my hometown’s two single sex schools came together. It was never ‘cool’ to be involved in drama, particularly at an all boys’ school, however nearly everyone signed up to be in the musical, even the hardest school bully, just for a chance to be with some girls – a bit pathetic really. Girls and sex were a mystery to us, or perhaps that was just me.

I remember after school one day some boys saying they’d found something ‘funny’ in bushes and they wanted to show me – as an adult I now know if anyone offers to show you something ‘funny’ in the bushes it’s best to decline but they were innocent days. In bushes on the ground there WAS something ‘funny’, a porn magazine. We giggled for a long time. I’ve just realised as I’m writing this childhood anecdote the ‘porny mag bush incident’ actually happened at junior school and not secondary school, hence why we giggled rather than someone stealing it and running home, so the whole part I just wrote about Forest Boys’ was completely unrelated, oh well. I remember wondering why the magazine was in the bushes and who would have been brave enough to buy it, and then I remember running off before the teacher caught us.

I have never bought a porno/razz mag/knee trembler page turner, and I’ve always wondered who goes into a newsagent to publicly declare to the whole shop their preferred choice of reading material and if they felt embarrassed doing it, so I had to find out for myself. I was a little nervous doing this, firstly in case my mother or father just happened to be London and just happened to walk into the newsagent as I was reaching up for Big Jugs 3, and secondly what would the people in the shop think of me.

I spent a while browsing the top shelf selection in the newsagent, perhaps a little too long, before approaching the counter to make my seedy purchase. There was an old lady, the type you imagine going to church regularly, selecting her lottery ticket numbers on the shopkeeper’s counter so I had to pass the magazine right in front of her face – great! The shopkeeper didn’t seem bothered at all, but I wondered if on the inside he was judging me. He placed the magazine in a black plastic bag and I left his shop feeling like a right perv.

Feeling confident after writing my first film review after my previous days challenge, I will now attempt my first ‘book’ review:

BootyLicious (July 2013)

Published by Looker

Price £4.99

Bootylicious is a specialised magazine for readers who have penchant for the ladies bottom. I found the written text limited, but it was nice to explore the political opinions of the featured ‘artists’. The images were surprisingly graphic but lacked any true feeling and left me cold.

For £4.99 I expected more from the thirty-one pages, and contemplated seeking a refund from the magazine’s retailer.

A little disappointing.

1/5 stars

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