Walter’s Diary Pt.7 – Unexpected Events

We met Mary on time, and we caught our plane home with no problems.

We arrived in London, sped to Lord Hellthwaites private club, he and daughter were tearfully reunited (well, we interupted an informal meeting and Lord Hellthwaites accountant was there … he took one look at the money-grabbing Mary and promptly began to sob like a baby).

Lord Hellthwaite took Deadfast aside for a moment, and when he came back he had a big Cheshire-cat grin on his face, and was clutching what looked like a pair of tickets and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a folded piece of paper. Had he recieved a letter?

“Walter, the bet is off…” he declared, putting an arm around me and steering me outside. “However, the week has been prosperous for us!”
“Would you care to elaborate?”

It turns out that Deadfast wouldn’t be getting a holiday home in Hawaii after all.
He did, however, get two tickets for an around-the-world cruise.
I couldn’t see why he was so happy about this, but he WAS happy and, oddly, he hadn’t had a drink for at least two hours.

It didn’t take us long to get home, get changed, grab clothing, and we were off … all a bit hurried if you ask me, but a free holiday is a free holiday. One can’t complain.
Well, Deadfast did a little, but only because he couldn’t find his bucket and spade.

So, I’m typing this whilst sitting on the deck of the boat (ship, ocean liner, glorified dingy, whatever you wish to refer to it as), and I have a Strawberry Daquiri by my side, a straw hat on my head, a pair of bermuda shorts on, and a charming young man has just winked at me from across the pool.

There is, without any shadow of a doubt, something decidedly fishy going on here.
Oh well … Deadfast is off somewhere trying to get us invited to the Captain’s table for dinner, so I’ve some time to myself.
Now, where did that young man go…?


Walter’s Diary pt.6 – NY Blues

Well now.
I’ve just got out of a jail cell, after spending three nights “chatting” with some lovely police officers from NY’s finest.

My video shop friend, Big Al, let me spend some time in his store on Monday.
“That lady’s always in here, sitting in one of the booths and frigging herself silly!” he told me; I didn’t like to ask how he knew this… I’ve a vague recollection of him once offering to show me some “home movies” once. No doubt he had some elaborate video-camera set-up back there.
I made a mental note not to get myself into one of the booths, just in case.

After seven hours of serving (yes, he let me stay in his shop by making me work there) the “dirty mac” brigade, Mary wandered in.
She didn’t recognise me, and flounced straight out to the back of the store, where Big Al keeps his booths. Al told me this was what she always did, and why didn’t I head back there?

I called the hotel, but Deadfast didn’t answer…. I’d made the mistake of letting him into the mini-bar, and now he was no doubt unconscious.
So, after a few minutes of thinking, I called Al over to mind the till, and I headed out back.

Big Al has four booths back there, and three of them were empty.
The one on the far right had its door shut, so I deduced that Mary was ensconced within.
I crept into the neighbouring booth, and quietly shut the door…. with no plan whatsoever.

I couldn’t see a thing… there was no light in there.
I could barely make out a coin-slot on my left, so I fumbled for some change and put in a coin, expecting a light to come on.
Instead, a tv screen flickered on infront of me (behind a slightly-stained plastic window) and I was suddenly confronted with some very saucy material!
I averted my eyes, and saw a hole in the wall… a hole that would lead directly into Mary’s booth!

As I looked, I saw a finger poke through, and make a beckoning “come hither” gesture.
I was looking at a gloryhole!
I’d been told about such things by Deadfast once or twice during a long winter night around the fire, but put that (and his tales of a “no-hands bar” in Thailand in which you would recieve oral sex by an unseen mouth whilst sitting at the bar) down to his active imagination.
This was real… ye gads!

I knew what was expected of me, but… I couldn’t do such a thing!
However, here I was, in a booth next to Mary Hellthwaite, and she wanted my… special purpose.
This was unexpected!

What was I to do?

Well… I knew that I had to make some form of contact with her, and so… yes, dear reader, I did something that I regretted, and … well … after many minutes of self-doubt … and I am blushing as I type … I presented myself to her!

I undid my trousers (making sure the door was locked) and slipped my underwear down, and stepped forward… the blood was rushing, and so I poked through the hole just fine.

And that’s when the lights in the booth came on, and a voice boomed out “You’re under arrest, sir, please get yourself dressed and step out”.

Oh, bother.

Turns out, I wasn’t in a booth next to Mary at all.
That swine Big Al had seen Mary slip out the back a little while before, and had not said anything to me.
Instead, he had phoned the police and informed them that there was a sex pest in his store!
The blighter then sat back and watched as I headed back there and… well… you know the rest.

I was carted down to the station, and questioned as to what I was doing in New York, who I knew there, and so on.

Luckily, after a few days of there rather inept questioning, Deadfast had bailed me out (with, I hasten to add, my own money that he had pilfered from my bank account whislt I had been “missing in action”), and we headed back to the hotel.

“Walter,” he said through the door of the bathroom as I slipped into the hot bath I’d just ran. “I know where Mary is.”
“Oh,” I stuttered, somewhat in shock. Surely he couldn’t have done some actual work?
“I bumped into her in the bar downstairs, appologised for your behaviour on Saturday night..>”
“My behaviour?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, oblivious to the real world. “I then invited her back here for a chat and, when she left in the morning, she agreed to come home with us.”
“Has she ran out of money?”
“You two got along, didn’t you…” I muttered, sinking under the bubbles.

In a few hours, we are going to be sitting on a plane, headed back to London.
We’ve spoke to Mary over the phone (well, Deadfast made some strange cooing noises when he had the mouthpiece, whilst it was left to me to arrange things) and she is due to meet us in the lobby in twenty minutes.

I must go and wake Deadfast now… I’ll inform you of the reunion with Lord Hellthwaite and his daughter when we get back to the UK.

I’d kill for a chip buttie right now…


Posted by Walter

Walter’s Diary: Pt.5 – Mary

Mary, it turns out, didn’t want to be found.

“Fuck off, you weirdo!” were, if memory serves, her exact words when I approached her in a bar. “I’m a lesbian.”

I’d tracked her down to Greenwich Village on Saturday night, and Deadfast and I spent alot of dollars and most of our energy trawling bars until I recognised her.
Deadfast, of course, wouldn’t recognise himself in a mirror unless prompted, so these things are always left to me.
I pointed her out, and he sent me over;
“Walter, lad, we don’t want to spook her. She’ll recognise me,of course… so you go. I’ll just sit here and have a drink. Could I borrow some money?”

I had got within five feet of her, and was about to ask if I knew her (well, I wasn’t stupid enough to actually tell her why we were there), when she’d spun around, made eye contact, and growled her above response. Then, with a flourish, she’d grabbed the nearest young lady to herself and proceeded to give her a long and lengthy kiss.

I was enjoying the moment, actually, but it was ruined by the crashing of a table behind me and Deadfast approaching at speed, and with a big dopey grin on his face.

“Ladies,” he annoucned, but I managed to wheel him away before Mary decided to kick either of us in the unmentionables. “Don’t go anywhere!” he yelled over his shoulder at them.

“I think it’s best if we…”
“Oh, tish and pish, Walter… I know what to do!”
“Have a drink?”
And, with that, he wandered off to the bar.

I figured it would be best if we followed her as she left, and approached her in a less-public place.

So, for the next two hours, we sat about and drank (water for me, with a slice of lemon, and alochol for Deadfast… he isn’t fussy which type).
I was keeping a close eye on Mary and her friends (most of whom, as far as I could work out, were friendly with one another, if you know what I mean… they exchanged saliva an awful lot, and I’m sure that kind of thing isn’t sanitary), but, as is his way, Deadfast got bored of not having my attention and so declared he was going to dance.
He then proceeded to try to start a conga-line.
This didn’t work, of course, but provided enough of a distraction for me to lose sight of the young Miss Hellthwaite for a moment and, when I looked back, she and her entourage were nowhere to be seen.

The evening ended with me running out of there with Deadfast over my shoulder, and an irrate bar patron and his friends giving chase after his wife had been the unwilling victim of Deadfast and his rising libido.

He is still asleep, now, and I’m trying to figure out what to do next.

I’ve a friend who works in a video store (believe it or not, some still exist) down the road who says Mary is a frequent customer.
I’m thinking of sitting in one of the booths there all day on the off-chance that she comes in.

It’s going to be a long, hard day…

Posted by Walter

A Probing Poem

Three little monkeys were sitting in the jungle
When one got bored and fancied a rumble,
So down he jumped to the green, green floor
Looking for a fight,
Ready for a war.

The first thing he saw when he walked through the grass
Was a angry baboon with a bright red arse.
“Hey” he shouted, dancing with glee,
“You’re a wanker, come and get me!”

Well the monkey ran and the baboon gave chase,
Crashing through the jungle on their deadly race.
Suddenly the monkey stopped and fell to the ground
Because he had heard a very strange sound

There in the sky was a UFO
What was it doing there? The monkey didn’t know.
The baboon hadn’t noticed and was ready to fight
When he was suddenly blinded by a bright white light

The baboon got drawn into the strange alien ship
The monkey was safe so he didn’t give a shit.
The spaceship departed with its new animal load
That poor baboon was getting anally probed!

The moral of this story should be taken to heart,
Never chase a monkey if you value your arse!


Posted by Norton

What a load of tits!

I was watching an episode of the 90’s live action TMNT show, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation (don’t judge me, you sons of bitches) and the new character of Venus De Milo turtle was introduced.

Ok, you may think.  Another turtle.  We dig it.
She was in the original turtle tank with the four guys and became separated, but was subjected to the same mutagen as Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael and Michael-Angelo.
She was trained in the ways of Shinobi (very different to being a ninja, apparently, even though it all comes down to kicking and punching and smacking bad guys upside the head with a stick) and has some powers the guys don’t have.  She can, for example, channel into the Dream State and read people’s minds.  Useful.

”What’s the damage, Norton?” you may ask.  “Are you sexist or something?”

No, I’m not.
I’m all for ladies kicking ass… even lady turtles.
Here is a picture of Venus.


Can you see what my issue might be?

Here’s another photo, as she does some saucy Shinobi magic.


Still not sure?
I’ll tell you.

She isn’t a mammal!
She has no need for them!!

Are you telling me that the mutagen the turtles were soaked in somehow gave her breasts?  SERIOUSLY?
It’s just shoddy design!

I thought about this, and realised that there are more cases of this breast-giving going on.  All throughout media history, women have been given boobies irrespective of their species.

Look… here’s Daisy Duck looking a bit sexy (this wasn’t fan art, this was for a Valentine’s Day thing!)


In the film Happy Feet there are female penguins who do not have breasts per se but do have colouring on their chests to suggest cleavage.
With cleavage.
Hell, in some cases, I can even think of robots with breasts!


Now, although a sex-bot would probably need breasts, your common robotic death machine has no need for tits.  NONE!
What’s going on?
If you can remember Howard The Duck, possibly George Lucas’s finest moment, the hero is at one point flicking through ‘PlayDuck’ magazine and the naked lady ducks in there (what is the term for lady duck?) don’t just have breasts but they have nipples as well.

Don’t get me started on the various cinematic aliens with tits… an alien physiology is obviously very different to human so why on Earth (heh) would an alien have breasts?  Clearly, most alien ladies are big-boobed Captain Kirk conquests but are bazongas a necessity?  It isn’t just in Star Trek or Star Wars that the lady aliens have chest torpedoes.  In Futurama, for example, there was a lobster lady with boobs.



There could be a whole blog about the various anime monsters with boobies but I will say that most female digimon have some degree of budding boobs.

Even in videogames this happens… a character in Skylanders (Cynder the dragon thing) is a female dragon thing with breasts!  She has clearly rounded chest protuberances!

It happens in tv, cartoons, movies, literature, comics… for example, and before I forget, I will mention that the origins of Jessica Drew (Marvel’s Spider-Woman) were that she would be a hyper-evolved spider that took on the traits of a human.  So, naturally, she became a spider that looked like a woman with big tits.
Thankfully, they scrapped that idea!

I know why this has happened – it seems the powers that be believe us plebs are too stupid to realise who is male and who is female without a big pair of norks being shoved in our stupid popcorn-munching faces!
Well fuck you, Hollywood!
We know the truth!
Hollywood is full of tits.


Now.  Don’t get me wrong.
We here at Los Chimpos love the boobies.
However, the only pair of breasts that have ever really been welcomed in a cartoon were these…


Oh, Cheetarah.


She’s a Thundercat and, as we all know, cats are mammals and so need big knockers. That’s perfectly acceptable.

Keep an eye out from now on.
Be it a videogame, a comic, a cartoon, an animated movie or a live-action costume-based thing, you’ll be able to spot a pair of breasts that don’t belong.


I’m going for a sit down and a play with my girlfriend’s boobs.

Posted by Norton