I want to share with you my thoughts on the above subjects. No, that isn't true, I don't want to share my thoughts with you, I want to transfer my thoughts to you, so you can have the sleepless nights and I can get back to dreaming about nice things like chickadees and brinjal chutney.
[If you are of a delicate disposition, I advise you not to read further. There must be something on television worth watching....]
Back to D and P. As far as I can see, there are two serious issues that need to be addressed.
First - and this arises from a conversation with my childhood sweetheart, Alicia, who, like me, lives alone - what will happen when I die? What I mean is, how long will it be before someone finds me, and what state will I be in when they do? I don't know a lot about the decomposition of flesh, but having poisoned a few rodents in my time, I know that cadaverine and putrecine are not nosegay chemicals. So, I want to apologise in advance for any inconvenience my demise might cause, and, oh yes, while I think about it, whoever finds me, could they turn off the Central Heating: the cost of domestic oil is nothing short of scandalous these days.
Second, it's not only my own demise that concerns me, but the demise of my race. My brief encounter with the naughty websites (apparently something like 90% of the population spend 75% of their time visiting these) has scared me witless. As far as I can see, half the population spends its leisure time tying up the other half and beating it with whips and hairbrushes. Or was it cabbage leaves? Well, you know, dem sei wie ihm wolle, spanking, dressing up funny, and similar infertile activities.
When they are not into bondage - I had always thought of the need to bond as a very positive instinct - they seem to spend their time (How can I put this delicately?) munching on each other. I am far too liberal a chap to condemn fellatio and cunnilingus (two words that cry out for punnery), but I think people would get much more satisfaction out of a few sticks of celery if they just gave it a chance. Probably less fattening too.
It seems that getting the hots for the opposite sex is also out of fashion. If you haven't made it with someone who is built exactly like you, you are probably in need of counselling, it seems. Goodness knows what has happened to procreation. I don't want to be indelicate, but as any plumber will tell you, there are male parts and female parts and they are designed to complement each other, whereas....... oh hell, let's not go there.
It's all encapsulated in the limerick:
There was a young gay from Khartoum
Took a lesbian up to his room
And they argued all night
About who had the right
To do what and with which and to whom.
So, my beloveds, I am not only an old scrote, I am a bewildered old scrote. If and when I do pop my clogs, I just hope I will be found by a cheery police officer or a plump District Nurse. May it please God I am not found by a necrophile. Know what I mean?