I Didn't Say That!

OK, I'll admit that sex rears its head in this blog rather more often than it does in the Lupin household these days. But usually either humorously or in the course of a rigorously intellectual argument about the cultural context of sexuality in post-modern society.
And my pseudonym 'Willie' is a literary reference not an anatomical one. (That will be lost on my American readers; think dick, guys. Some of you probably do that too often already, but that's another story).

But when I look at my referrals from Google searches I seem to be single-handedly responsible for the moral degeneracy of western society.
It's truly horrifying that I'm No 4 on Google for 'Christopher Robin and Alice'.
In the early days of this blog I qouted Sir John Waller's scurrilous parody of A.A. Milne's rhyme in which Christopher Robin is portrayed as a rent boy. So now there's the risk that a child Googling for that text will hand their teacher a version that includes the line "Christopher Robin is waiting for trade."
Oh, the shame of it.

Last week someone came across me after searching for 'teenage boys in speedos or underwear.'
Well, Jonathan King has just been released from prison.
This week I was first port of call for someone looking for 'Ronaldo completely naked'. I'm guessing that they were looking for something more visual than my observations on the FA Cup Final. In any case, if Ronaldo naked were within my gift I could think of better things to do with him than put him in my blog.

Then there was 'use of vaseline in the bathroom'. Do you think that was Wayne in Watford who is doing one of Gordon Brown's Modern Apprenticeships in plumbing? I hope so because it was in the context of plumbing that I mentioned it, with only the merest soupcon of sexual sub-text.

Why don't these people put commas round their search phrases and get Google to look for the exact phrase? Because I swear to God I never wrote this stuff and, in the words of the song, 'it's not me you're looking for'.
I resent the fact that this blog, which aspires to the highest moral and intellectual standards, is being served up by those boys in the Googleplex to every fetishist with access to the internet and a box of Kleenex.
I'm almost inclined to ask m'learned friends if I could sue Google for defamation of character.
Now, of course, by repeating those phrases, I'll move even higher up the wanking ranking.

So finally, let me make it clear to the person who is searching for an 'orgasm chair' that I have never written about such an item of furniture and had no idea that such existed.
Mind you, I will sneak a quick look in the Argos catalogue.
Knowing my luck, it will probably be self-assembly when DIY is the very thing one is trying to avoid.
And I won't be able to follow the instructions or it will be missing a screw (which is why one bought the bloody thing in the first place) and every time I sit on it the damned thing will say it's got a headache.

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We apologise to our more pedantic readers for the absence of a cedilla on the word 'soupcon'. But do you really think I've got time to write this drivel and go the Windows Character Map to look for French accents? Stupid bloody language anyway.

It only appears here to give a misleading patina of bilingualism to my blog. In truth, I'm not bi- anything.