When lovely ladies find out that I worked for a gentlemen’s masturbation manual for seven-and-a-half years, their first question is always, “Why?” Their second is usually, “Can you please get the fuck away from me, you chauvinistic pervert?”
My answer is usually along the lines of the fact that, for the first five or so years at least, writing for The Picture gave me more freedom than pretty much any magazine in the country. I was given the opportunity to write genuinely funny and clever articles, even if they weren’t always the most intelligent or important stories in the country. In my time there I wrote many, many stories that I’m still incredibly proud of and, when it comes down to it, that’s why I stayed.
Of course, the lovely ladies focus on the fact that I also interviewed not-so-lovely ladies, the sort who earn money by allowing sickos to either perv on their vaginas, or insert their horribly deformed penises into them. I heard some wild stories (one chick fucked a dog. I’m not making that up – she fucked a dog while a small group of people watched), but after interviewing more than 1000 women, there was no titillation or excitement there. I just called them up, got a couple of quotes, then threw together a few words for blokes to ignore while wanking over the photos.
I suppose I could lie, and tell the lovely ladies that I actually wrote for Model Train Monthly (Australia’s second-biggest-selling quarterly publication dedicated to scale locomotives and associated miniatures), but I’m an honest fella, so I’ll probably always have that shadow over me.
I’ve also come to realise that my past career have robbed me of any chance of ever becoming Prime Minister of Australia. Alright, so the fact I’ve never tried to become a politician and am not an absolute fuckwit also count against me, but if I ever ran for the top job, there are a lot of photos that could be used against me.
A lot of photos. And, because I’d rather get laughs than have the opportunity to lead my country, here are some of them, preserved on the internet forever, ready for greenie lesbians with unshaved vaginas to uncover just as I’m ready to waltz it in at election time. Waltz it into the Prime Ministership, that is, not waltz into an unshaved vagina.
Of course, Julia Gillard fucked a bunch of married men, is a criminal, and has an arse wider than the Simpson Desert and a head that looks like it fell out of the wrong end of a dog, so I guess anyone can be the Prime Minister. Vote for me!