Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Man! I feel like a woman

Sometimes mother nature can be a cruel and sadistic jester. We have all seen the photos of two headed piglets, hair covered babies, bearded ladies and perhaps most disgustingly of all, the nine legged Octopus.
Although most people are familiar with these types of accidental oddities, they do still have the power to shock and repulse us for somewhere deep within our primitive being we unconsciously think, there but for the grace of god go I.

But what about the mistakes of nature that aren't as obvious or as visible as a six testicled dog, a black orange or a carrot shaped like Toulouse Lautrec?
What about the psychological typos mother nature has made on the great key board of life?
The psychopaths, sociopaths, bipolars, anorexics, schizophrenics, multiple personalities, neurotics and Manchester united fans?
What about these poor unfortunates? Are we as a society meant to ignore them, lock them up or ridicule them? Or are we as human beings meant to care for these people as we would a dog born with two dicks?

We here at News direct believe that every living creature upon this small blue planet of ours deserves respect and understanding and it was in this heady atmosphere of the nobility of life, that News direct sent me forth into the world to discover everything I could about that most misunderstood of creatures, the Transsexual.

Of all natures freaks, transsexuals are probably the least understood by the general public. In ancient times, as in modern, they were often castigated and shunned by their uncaring communities.
That is not to say there were not places within the ancient world that did not shun these poor unfortunates, Asia in particular had vast pockets of transsexual friendly territory.
Indeed in some places within ancient Asia this toleration gradually evolved into veneration, these half male, half female creatures became living symbols of the duality of nature and the perfumed examples of the ying and yang concept prevalent in many differing forms across the continent.

When early European sailors first made contact with these exotic lands they were amazed and then mystified by these strange temple denizens, so much so that early accounts of them are said to have been the basis of the mermaid myths, for the humble sailors not having adequate words to describe what they had seen could only whisper in shocked fascination about a creature they had seen with the top half of a woman and on the bottom just a huge powerful tail!

So it was with this same sense of awe and a little trepidation that I began my research into the curious phenomena of the modern day transsexual.
Untold hours of internet research had thrown me from Chix wit dix.com to bedicked bitches! and then perhaps most bizarrely of all to a site devoted to lovers of narcoleptic ladyboys called Tranquil transsexuals.com.
Although these vast repositories of free girly boy filth gave me some idea as to what I was getting myself into it was not really the angle I was searching for, for as regular readers will know, we here at News direct are nothing if we are not sensitive.

This is why I was delighted to come across (No pun intended! No really! I hadn't even realised it was a pun! I hate puns, they are so easy to throw out there. I would never pun during a serious investigative story like this one. To fill this article with filthy puns and sniggering knob gags is way below my dignity and anyone who suggests I would deserves nothing but my contempt and never ending enmity.
That's the trouble with people nowadays, all they want is cheap degrading puns and childish knob gags, well I for one don't believe that's what the internet is for, I believe it is here to nurture us and lead us with digital dignity into a dazzling future of byte based knowledge. It wasn't like this in the beginning you know, the internet nowadays is just full of sick perverts and Star wars geeks not the noble seekers of truth, justice and knowledge like you and me, no most people are only online for the German pissing porn and pictures of cats dressed as Hitler.)
the website of an organisation called Time for a change! Which as their website said was "A charitable organisation set up with donations from the United nations, The European union and various Transsexual porn companies all with the intended aim of making transsexualism more acceptable within the mainstream of society."

The international headquarters of Time for a change! was located in the picturesque olde worlde charm of a Doncaster industrial estate, just off the A630 near the new carpet warehouse show room.
The headquarters was not what I was expecting at all, instead of a modern steel and glass office building with smiling receptionists and bland corporate art, all I saw before me was a small factory unit on a wind swept industrial estate.
But closer examination of the plaque confirmed to me that this was indeed the world headquarters of Time for a change!
There was no door as such so the conundrum of where to knock was solved by me banging my cold hand on the large roll down metal door before me.
Until my banging was rewarded with the sound of gears followed by the slow upward scroll of the aluminum wall.

As the wide door inched slowly upwards I bent myself double and tried to steal a glimpse of what I would soon be granted for free, but disappointedly all I could steal was the sight of a cold concrete floor and a shiny pair of red six inch stiletto heels crushing the lipsticked filter of a now smoked cigarette.
Two long minutes later and the door had crawled high enough for me to bend underneath its corrugated facade and meet the stilettoed chair woman of the charity, Miss Fontana St Clairveux, a statuesque six foot five blonde wearing a tiger print mini dress and a warm red smile.
"Mr Astley?" she asked in a pleasant dark brown voice.
Standing straight, I thrust my hand straight into her large paw and said "Yes, please call me Rick."
Miss St Clairveux smiled a slightly amused max factor smile and waved her huge hand in the direction of a old sofa crammed into a small corner of the large lock up "Would you like to take a seat Rick?"
I looked across the frozen concrete floor to the surreal homely corner and then managed to nod before making my way across to the sagging leather settee lit only by a single standard lamp.

I sat down at the closest end and then grabbed the arm tightly and bounced up as Miss St Clairveux placed her self heavily next to me.
"Oh sitting right there are you?" I smiled, nervously.
"Well I feel it's more intimate don't you?" She said as she twirled the hair above my ear with a red painted nail.
I leaned my head away from the toying nail and after clearing my throat said "Well yeah It's certainly....errr intimate, is it hot in here or is it just me?"
Her red taloned hand stroked heavily upon my thigh as she sighed a marilynesque "Well Mr Astley, some like it hot."
I looked round the room, hoping for a glance of some unknown rescuer I knew would never race across the pitted concrete and whisk me away to a land were uncomfortable situations are known only in fairy tales and myths.
"I don't" I squeaked, while trying to remove the hand now tightly gripping my inner thigh.
"You don't what Mr Astley?"
"I don't like it hot."
"I'm sure there were a lot of things you didn't like until you tried them."
"Nope everything I didn't like before I tried it, I didn't like after I tried it either, with the exception of spam and peanut butter fritters strangely enough."
"Come come Mr Astley, I'm sure a man like you could get to like most things if you just had the courage to try them."
"No I'm quite set in my ways, I still refuse to call marathons, snickers, thank you anyway."
Miss St Clairveaux leaned in even closer and for a moment I felt the moistness of a warm lip on my ear before she breathed into it "I'm only teasing you Mr Astley, you're not my type at all."

The deep rumble of her laughter echoed heavily through the lock up as she shuffled her self up to the other end of the sofa "I'm sorry for teasing you, but I just wanted to dispel the notion that all transsexuals are voracious man eaters out to corrupt innocent straight men."
I wiped my sweat laden brow with my jacket sleeve "Oh yeah I knew what you were doing, as soon as you started I thought to myself, I bet she is trying to dispel the notion that all transsexuals are voracious man eaters out to corrupt innocent straight men."
"Well Mr Astley, you are obviously a man of the world."
"Oh yeah, I've been around, I was in the boy scouts for ten years. You don't spend ten years in the forces without learning a thing or two about the world!"
Miss St Clairveaux leaned forward and I quickly leaned back "I do like a man in uniform."
Still leaning back I managed "I'm not in the scouts now!"
"Shame."
"I had to leave after the incident with the scoutmaster's poodle, a Polaroid camera and a loose woggle."

After ten more minutes of me putting Miss St Clairveaux at her ease I began to delve into the intricacies, secrets and mores of the transsexual world.
"So when did you discover you were a woman? Did you realise suddenly that you like to talk a lot and buy shoes?"
"No I didn't just discover I was a woman, I have always been a woman."
I gave her a puzzled look before the clarity of understanding drifted across my features "Ohhhhh I feel such an idiot!! I thought you were a tranny!!!" I moved closer up the sofa towards her "I thought because you were running this tranny thing that you were one! And you must admit you are quite a big girl! Jesus I feel such an idiot! I do like it hot!!!!!"
"You misunderstand me Mr Astley What I meant to convey to you was that even when I was very young I always felt like I was a girl trapped inside a boy's body."
"Oh right, so you are a tranny?"
"Yes Mr Astley I am a transsexual."
"Oh in that case I don't then"
"You don't what?"
"I don't like it hot."
"You see Mr Astley, this is what my organisation is all about. We want to dispel the common myths associated with transsexuals and present ourselves to the world as we actually are, just normal everyday people."
"Oh ok, so what did you do before you......errr you know......you becam....decocked."
"Well before I began living full time as a woman I was in a very high powered testosterone fueled business making high powered life and death decisions everyday, oh and by the way I haven't decocked."
"What did you do?"
"I was a junior colourist at Toni and Guys in Rotherham."
"Why haven't you decocked yet"
"Not all transsexuals.....decock, as you so delicately put it. I enjoy having a cock and would be lost without it.
"But what about doing...sex, you know if you wanted to do it with a ....you know ...a man."
"Well that is why I had my balls removed and my scrotum made into a vagina."
"You had your sac made into a vagina?????"
"No you idiot! You see this is the kind of ignorance we are constantly fighting against."
"Yeah I knew that I was just giving you the chance to demonstrate what it can be like, you know when you have to talk to idiots and people who aren't very smart and stuff."

Miss St Clairveaux smiled and then with a hand swept casually through her long blonde hair she asked "Is that it Mr Astley? Do you need anymore?"
"Errrrr no not really, If I do need anything else I'll just do what I usually do."
"Get back in touch with me to arrange another interview?"
"No I'll make it up."
"Oh right."
"Fancy a quick pint?"
"I'm a lady I don't drink pints, but I will join you for a banana daiquiri and Taboo splashed with Cointreau and Malibu in a tall glass over ice."
"You're on! But you're buying and if there are any hot chicks in the pub, your my sister right."

Meeting Miss St Clairveaux taught me that when all is said and done people are just people, some are tall, some are short, some are ginger, and some even have one leg. But overall the biggest lesson I learned from my meeting with Miss St Clairveaux was never try to out drink a transsexual, they drink like squaddies.

5 comments:

Annie T AKA Agnes Mildew said...

I would like to know, though, had (s)he not been a bloke, would you have given her one?

Aningeniousname said...

No because as my dad always used to say me "Son never go out with a woman who has bigger hands than you, it can give you a complex. How long you had that fire on??? Can't you open the curtains?? It's like the bloody black hole of Calcutta in here!! Middle of the day and you've got the lights on!! Do you think I'm made of money??"

Annie T AKA Agnes Mildew said...

Your father sounds like mine. Do you think we were twins, separated at birth and our Dad flitted from one house to the other?

You've forgotten the: Gerrout the bloody shower: water doesn't grow on trees, you know!
Don't coming crying to me if you get knocked over playing in the road.
You need to get out and get some fresh air. It's lovely out there. Clear off. Country File is on...(in the depths of winter when it is snowing, hailing or sleeting and he wants to hog the bloody fire and telly).

Ah me. Parents, eh? But I digress...

Aningeniousname said...

We could be twins but Twins adopted out to other families, my "Mum and Dad" made it very clear to me that I was what my mum termed "Mistakenly adopted"
So if we are twins I can definitely confirm that my "dad" is not "our dad"
I actually think I am adopted from Russian royalty because I once heard my dad tell a neighbour that I was "A right little bleeder"

Lola said...

ha, funny stuff, kudos!