Join The Christmas Resistance

Join the Christmas resistance today, before it is too late!

Now first it is necessary to point out that I do not advocate Christmas Resistance because Christmas might offend Muslims or any politically correct crap like that. I don't get offended by Islamic traditions but I do when some twant says I can't have my Turkey because the pork sausage stuffed up its arse is an abomination to Allah. I'm advocating heartily wishing each other a merry Christmas, snogging under the (pagan) mistletoe, playing music (which is unislamic apparently) including Merry Christmas Everybody by Slade, Wizzard's Let The Bells Ring Out For Christmas; Ring Out Solstice Bells by Jethro Tull and most of all A Fairy Take Of New York by the Pogues and Kirsty McColl, drinking alcoholic beverages to mild excess and lots of other Christmassy things, particularly those which remind us it is really a pagan festival.

But when politicians talk of the "War on Terror" I wonder do they ever think of the commercial terrorism inflicted on our world at this time of year. Think about the endless media message that we must be happy, this is the happiest time of the year so if you aren't having a great time you are some sort of failure. That would be sinister enough of course as people have different and very individual ways of coping with life, but it is underlined by an unspoken subtext blasted at us through the medium of advertising. "The way to be happy is through buying things." Can buying stuff make us happy or is the idea that buying expensive gifts for friends and family will prompt them to buy us expensive gifts in return, thus proving that they love us? Either way it is a rather bleak view of the human state.

Christmas is a strange festival, on the surface a celebration of the birth of Jesus (who, we know for certain, was not actually born at Christmas, but only just beneath that Christian overlay truly the pagan celebration of the Winter Solstice which is much more in line with the modern partying than the rather solemn commemoration of the birth of a Messiah destined to die for the sins of humanity could be. Strangely though, the two extremes, people like myself who try to live in harmony with the natural world (that is all Pagan means; nothing to do with Black Magic, nor with having orgies around big fires at midnight - bummer!) and those with a very profound Christian faith will be getting far less worked up about Christmas than the majority of sensible, level headed people.

I think the point at which these two extremes meet is an understanding that Christmas/Solsticetime should not be about money. So you bought the kids a new computer each, maybe it will help their future job prospects but might it not also raise expectations for next year? And as for the kids, is their pester power not fuelled by a constant stream of advertising.

The question we ought to be asking ourselves though has nothing to do with expensive consumer goods. We all live at a crazy pace now, we work to many hours, we spend too long travelling to and from work, during the precious leisure hours many of us are concerned with networking or are frenetically engaging in some self improvement project. We have no time for ourselves, never mind anybody else. So as you are making your gift list think what the most precious thing you can give in the modern world actually is.

Your time and attention.

The symbolism of both Christmas and the Solstice is new beginnings. The Messiah who will lead his followers to a new and better life is born on Christmas Day. The sun passes its nadir and the cycle of life is renewed. Not so different when you think about it, note that phrase "Jesus is born," which I have taken from old Latin scriptures. Not Jesus was born, but present tense, IS. Every year hope is reborn just as it is in the pagan tradition when the days start to become a little longer each year, when the growing cycle of crops and the breeding cycle of the livestock starts again.

These beliefs come from a time when life was harsh, there was no air conditioning, no SUVs, no global trade to bring exotic foods by 747 and truck to local supermarkets and then our tables. Feasting was the way to celebrate at this time of year because food was the most precious gift that could be given, food was life. Now many of us find our health failing due to too much food. In the world of 2000, 3000, 5000 years ago people had to depend on each other to survive. Now it is possible to survive alone and in isolation. Many people do so, particularly in the industrialised world where the many pressure combine to separate us from our roots. Surviving however is not living, nobody should lose sight of how much we actually depend on each other still.

Think about someone who has been alone for a long time, have you noticed how such people build their lives around little private routines and rituals? Such people develop eccentricities as a defence against loneliness. Do you also ever notice how many people seem to be obsessive these days. Even in a city, even within a long term relationship people can become lonely and find themselves seeking refuge in personal fetishes, be it an unhealthy interest in a particular celebrity or a fascination for playing poker on the internet. One of the most dangerous obsessions is an obsession with sex and yet progressively sex is being turned into a cash commodity. There is an industry dedicated to selling us sex as a purely mechanical way of gaining a brief pleasurable sensation through an act devoid of all emotional content.

Among this craziness it is no wonder almost all of us get caught up in this obsessive consumerism to the extent that everything human about the Christmas/Solstice season is lost. What was the great celebration has become a time of stress as we try to keep everybody happy, maintain our social profile, find time to fulfil all our obligations and worry about the New Year credit card bill.

This year why not be adventurous. Break out of the loop and instead of buying false happiness with costly, expensively wrapped gifts give your friends and family something much more precious - as much of your time as you possibly can. They will treasure it and the giving will add an extra dimension to your life as you find yourself remembering who you are.

Join the Christmas resistance, start thinking for yourself again. The fad is catching on, in the UK retailers are complaining that sales are down five per cent and are predicting financial catastrophe. The directors of mega - corporations had better get used to the idea of smaller salaries because as people discover the sheer relief of joining resisting Christmas terrorism the idea could catch on

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MAIN TAGS: Pagan >> Christian >> Religion >> Shopping
A Christmas Shelter

Scottish comedian and writer Janey Godley kindly allowed Greenteeth to republish her christmas fiction 'A Christmas Shelter'. This poignant Christmas story with a wry twist reminds us that labes don't make somebody a good person, actions do. It's a lesson we should be aware of as the gap between haves and have nots continues to grow wider.

Christmas is coming - and Retail Christians are ready
A look at how Christmas has made Christianity the religion of retailing and Christians the most evangelical of consumers

Christmas Is Bollocks
For Christmas 2010 Boggart Blog has continued its long tradition off slagging off the modern, consumer oriented, shoddy, politically correct, conformist christmas if favour of supporting people who do their own thing.

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What The Dickens
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Christmas Tyranny
Baby Born On The Bog
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Five Go Round Robin
The Christmas Story Retold
Let Down By Hope
What A Pagan Believes
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Christmas Is Bollocks
Christmas Appeal - Help Reunite Seperated Socks
Prime Minister A Christmas Caganer
Join the Christmas Resistance
Solstice Fires

Suicide Dolphins

When at the height of US global belligerence during the Bush administration, somebody in The Pentagon came up with the idea of using animals as suicide bombers in the war on terror at around the same time as Hurricane Rita wrecked a CIA training facility for marine mammals allowing some of the 'military assets to escape, it set our minds working overtime.

CIA trained Dolphin of Mass Destruction (source)

Amongst the numbers of missing and unaccounted for in the aftermath of Hurricane Rita are a number of fully armed combat dolphins who are trained to carry out missions behind enemy lines. Such Dolphins are not expected to return from their assignments but be happy to lay down their lives in the service of their country.

The U.S. Military made have lost track of these specialist attack personnel but you should all remember that our sponsor Jenny Greenteeth is a water spirit and thus is in touch with all that goes on in the seven eighths of the world covered by water. Because of our connections Boggart Blog connects you live with a feed from surveillance equipment planted on two of the dolphins, Chk - chk and Drrrrrrrrup!

Chk - chk: Any fish left Drr?

Drrrrrrrrup!: Just a couple of herrings, but they are past their sell by date.

Chk - chk: Bugger. We are going to have to go out and find a shoal.

Drrrrrrrrup!: Hey, it could be fun. I haven't had to chase fish in years.

Chk - chk: Oh, I don't mind chasing the fish but maybe leaving the gulf was not such a great idea after all.

Drrrrrrrrup!: We had to. Anywhere in the gulf those flat-faces could track us on radar.

Chk - chk: Get real, their radar is a joke. Have you heard it? bink...bink...bink. What's all that about.

Drrrrrrrrup!: I suppose it means something to them

Chk - chk: arrroo-rakkayakka-twonk-twonk-prup-hrup-yecyecyec-brrrupprupp

Drrrrrrrrup!: And anoth-

Chk-chk: Shh!
There is a moment's silence. Chk-chk listens intently while

Drrrrrrrrup! raps his fins
together.

Chk-chk: There's a shoal of sardines about twelve miles away. Now THAT'S radar.

Drrrrrrrrup: I was going to say that the local Caribbean Dolphins are well hard and they don't like strangers on their turf.

Chk-chk: We'll tell them we are U.S. Military Dolphins. They will leave us alone then, they will remember how we kicked their ass in Grenada. The local army ran so far nobody even saw them.

Drrrrrrrrup!: Ahem. Grenada does not actually have an army.

Chk - chk: That's irrelevant.

Drrrrrrrrup!: If you are such a patriot all of a sudden how come you escaped.

Chk - chk: (looks around furtively) It was planned, I'm on a secret mission.

Drrrrrrrrup!: You're spying on dolphins. Traitor.

Chk - chk: I'm not. I'm preserving homeland security. You saw those yellow and black chappies snooping around a couple of days ago. The ones who would not talk.

Drrrrrrrrup!: They were flat - face tourists scuba diving off Barbados.

Chk - chk: Tourists my blowhole. They had shiny yellow and black skin and funny faces. That's UnAmerican if you ask me. Uncle Sam's dolphins are grey and have proper noses.

Drrrrrrrrup!: They were wearing neoprene wet suits and breathing gear. Look out, here come some of the locals. They will be warning us off taking their fish again.

Chk - chk: Hey, we are military dolphins, we have a right to their fish. I say we take them on.

Drrrrrrrrup!: Bad move. A slight blow in the wrong place could set off that dirty bomb implanted under your skin.

Chk - chk: What?

Drrrrrrrrup!: Didn't you know. We are suicide dolphins. There is a radio receiver implanted in our brain so that our survival instinct can be overridden and on command we will swim up enemy rivers and smash into strategic targets like bridges, oil refineries and fish canning factories.

Chk - chk: No way.

Drrrrrrrrup: Way. Did they give you that bullshit about "only for intelligence gathering purposes."

Chk - chk: If I had known the truth I would never have signed up.

Drrrrrrrrup!: We didn't sign up, we were hauled out of the water, transported to Louisiana, put in a tank and told we would not get any fish until we started co-operating. And then we were subjected to ritual humiliation.

Chk - chk: You mean when that ugly woman made us look as if we were having a sixty-niner it was not to prepare us in case we were tortured.

Drrrrrrrrup: No, they were just having a laugh.

Chk - chk: And now we are loaded with highly volatile explosives and they only way we can be safe is to give ourselves up?

Drrrrrrrrup!: Whichever way you look at it, we're going to die a horrible death. And for nothing. We will not advance the cause of dolphins in any way.

Chk - chk: We have to do something. Some futile grand gesture, you know; confirm our existence by a pointless act. Let's fly into the World Trade Centre and detonate ourselves.

Drrrrrrrrup!: Can't. One, Its been done; and Two, we can't fly - we're dolphins.

Chk - chk: Well how about swimming into a tuna cannery. That would tech them a lesson. Their sandwiches would be contaminated for years.

Drrrrrrrrup!: Its more feasible, but why do you suddenly want to become a suicide dolphin.

Chk - chk: It will give me a sense of porpoise.

Are You Smarter Than Your Kids?

As the ongoing debate about whether exams are getting easier fades into a background buzz of people saying "rhubarb, rhubarb" until next year, ITV which has been somewhat tardy in getting its autumn schedules onto our screens had to resort to squeezing a peak time documentary from the tired controversy by getting a group of parents to sit the exams pupils have just taken.

Asking "are you smarter than your kids" is not the same as asking if exams are getting easier of course so the program falls down at once.

The fact that should concern us because it relates to the pertinent question of whether our kids are getting crap education just so the statistics can look good for the sake of the politicians is "why are more entrants passing and average grades rising each year." Empirical evidence suggests that while pupils are leaving school with truckloads of As and Bs each year many are lacking even basic skills.

I have always had doubts about the efficacy of education and what is more the A to Z (well A to W which is near enough) of wise men are with me on that. "What we must learn to do we learn by doing," Aristotle said, while Oscar Wilde declared "nothing that is worth learning can possibly be taught." Too right. Most of what I learned at school has turned out to be totally irrelevant in real life. I recall my problems with Pythagoras' Theorem and a certain looney maths teacher called Batty Bland. All maths teachers are looney to some degree of course but in the "Stark Raving Bonkers In The Head stakes Batty led the field by a distance.

"But what use it sir," I asked each time he tried to explain that the square of the hypotenuse does something utterly pointless and boring.

At last he gave in and tried to explain it though a practical analogy. "If you are out walking and see a tall building Thorpe, by using Pythagoras you can find out how tall it is."

I promise you, hand on heart, that while having appreciated the aesthetic qualities of many tall buildings I have never felt tempted to work out how tall they are. Never, ever!

In life, as we learn practical lessons, the academic mush of school is usually forgotten, to be replaced by things that are relevant to our lives. I was always a duffer at maths, still am. As a result of a condition possibly related to dyslexia, my mind goes blank when I am confronted with an algebraic equation and yet in my job I could solve the complex problems posed by needing to balance telecommunications traffic across a network. Quite simply that was a practical problem and I can do practical. What we have to learn to do we learn by doing.

Where modern education fails is in its focus on the narrow objective of passing exams. The purpose of education is not to force feed pupils on information so they can regurgitate it on examination day, education should tech them to want to learn. Life is much richer if we learn constantly and for us to want to learn constantly we must be made curious.
When pupils are leaving school without their curiosity ignited then education is failing.


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Changes

God's Blog in which The Almighty sets the record straight of a few things has moved to

God's Blog

This is for several reasons including the fact that my WYSIWYG editor has disappeared, but maily because of the disproportionate amount of time one has to spend on promotion just to get a handful of hits here.

A scatological must

Visit Terry's Fartology blog to learn more than you ever wanted to know about breaking wind.
Fartology

Santas Of The World Unite

More than 100 Santa Clauses and their little helpers have gathered in an amusement park north of Copenhagen this week for the annual World Santa Claus Congress. The three-day convention includes a chimney climbing competition and a parade in the capital. Participating Papa Noels, Santa Clauses, St Nicks and Sinter Klaases are drafting plans to improve their working conditions, including standardising chimney –widths in the EU and holding Christmas twice a year to lessen the one-day-a-year burden on Santas.

Perhaps the Santas will be treated to a nanny state lecture from Oprah on the detrimental effect on health of all those mince pies (saturated fat) and glasses of sherry (saturated brains) or maybe the animal rights lobby will show up and demand that the Satnas switch from reindeer powered sleighs to internal combustion engined snow - cats. Which will then lead to violations of the Kyoto treaty. Which will prompt Bush to talk of America's special relationship with is ally Lapland, thus making The North Pole, Elves and Christmas stockings targets for Al Quaeda terror attacks. Blair will ten order British security forces to follow and shoot five times in the head anybody suspected of posessing Christmas Puddings (incendiary when soaked with Brandy) Christmas Crackers (packed with high explosives) or sage and onion stuffing (can be used in poison gas attacks)

All in all, in the furture Christmas is going to be a jolly time. Thank Goddess I'm a pagan.

Greenteeth

The Sweet Smell of Failure

The fate of those who do not question authority (Source: Flickr)

The word “fail” should be deleted from the school vocabulary, and replaced with the term “deferred success”, according to members of the Professional Association of Teachers. Being told they were a failure can put children off education for the rest of their lives, they said. The idea is being put forward by two members at the union’s annual conference in Buxton, Derbyshire.

Well its nice to know after all these years I did not fail my school exams after all (my success was deferred some years but I ended up making exponentially more money than my teachers) but this story brings to mind a bizarre encounter a number of years ago. Meeting representatives of a potential client to discuss a consultancy project I was confronted with three suits, one of whom was American. The British people started off reasonably enough; "did you have a good trip down, jolly nice weather for the time of year" and blah blah. The American held a copy of my CV as it it was a piece of pre owned bog roll and went straight for the jugular. "Why did your further education come after several years out of the system?"

I told him I was not in love with the academic environment and wanted to get into work so I could afford to travel.
"But why did you not want to go through sixth form college and on to University?"
I answered truthfully, "Well I failed several examinations and so could not, even if I had wanted to."
Instead of asking why I had failed to which I could have answered "because I was bored out of my head at school having decided by the age of twelve than most of what they were trying to tech me was bollocks," he seized on the word "fail."

What he failed to understand was far from feeling inadequate at my failure to get into university after leaving school, I really didn't give a flying fuck. But I supposed someone who thinks to conform means the same as to succeed could never get their head round that attitude.

"Why do you consider yourself a failure, why do you feel inadequate because of this, do you reproach yourself for your early failures."

In the end I stood up. "Gentlemen," I said, "I used the word fail perfectly correctly in the context, only to suggest I did not pass certain test. As my CV shows I have enjoyed considerable success in my somewhat varied career since then and gained valuabe experience which I could bring to your project. This obsession with one word however demonstrates to me that you organisation is not ready to confront its difficulties and therefore I must terminate our meeting."

That incident shows not only that I am an arrogant bastard but also that we misunderstand the purpose of education if we seriously think it is to empower young people by giving them the ability to think for themselves. What is truly required of the education system by government and industry is that it creates a population conditioned to conform. As the old sixties T shirt slogan told us under a picture of a thuggish security man "You must never question authority."

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Garry Trotter and the Portal of Pleasure #7

The rage of Humblebore had been cataclysmic, Swinemoles had shaken to its foundations as he berated the pair he had thought of as his star pupils for their undignified descent into muggleistic behaviour.
"YOU WERE HAVING SEX IN THE SHOWER!" the headmaster had stormed.
Sibilant Shush, who as housemaster had attended the interview, commented "Well I never did."
"We guessed that," Garry quipped,
"Muggles have drugs for the problem," Briony added.
At that Humblebore's rage had become incoherent as the young lovers stood side by side, pinkies entwined, looking incredibly pleased with themselves.
In the Wizard world sex was forbidden until after the age of 51 as it had a counter productive effect, distracting young participants from their magical studies and turning them towards drugs and rock and roll. Seventeen year - olds shagging in the showers was about as a great a misdemeanour as could be.
"But what can we do?" Prof. Philtre has complained, "they both grew up with muggle families and have been exposed…"
"Oh they have, as we are all aware," Sibilant said unnecessarily.
"…been exposed to negative influences. Muggles watch stuff on their televisions that would never be seen in a crystal ball."
Eventually all the teachers concerned agreed that the pair should be grounded until after the exams and Garry's cloak of invisibility would be confiscated to prevent secret assignations.
"Quite right, if Briony is penetrated by an invisible man she could end up having a phantom pregnancy." said Sibilant who, in the opinion of Prof. Philtre, seemed to be taking an unhealthy interest in the ins and outs of the incident.

"You were doing … it, WOW … and old Humblebore and Philtre caught you, and you were naked" Dementia said for the millionth time as a crowd of girls surrounded Briony in the dorm.
Briony was tired of explaining that yes, they had been doing it, and no, it did not mean they were married now and no, she did not know why they had done it, it just seemed like a good idea at the time and would everybody just shut up because it was none of their business.
Garry was getting a similar reception except that everybody in the boys dorm was pretending they had "done it" many times.
"Batto Bellfry reckons he has a spell that can magic up two prozzers for a threesome," a friend of the school bully and resident smartarse said.
"Yeah it’s the spell of having a rich Dad. Batto might teleport in ladies of negotiable affection from the Shepherd Market but he pays them Muggle money.
"I'm not going to bother with arms and legs and a head and that, girls are always whinging, I'm just going to magic the fun bits," Don Beesley said.
Typical of Don, thought Garry, he doesn't realise the bits that do the whinging can be fun too. He thought of his muggle books and some of the wild things the people in those pictures were getting up to.
Soon the threat of exams meant the novelty of Garry and Briony's love affair was forgotten and by using their gnome helps as go - betweens they were able to arrange a meeting.
They were mad for each other. For the first time there was no talk of magic or trickery, instead they talked of walking on sandy beaches or camping in the pine woods of the Spanish coast ; going to Glastonbury not for the mystical ambience of the Tor but for the vibrant energy of the Scissor Sisters and the Kaiser Chiefs; island hopping around the Aegean. And they made love.
Two weeks after the exams something happened and for everybody at Swinemoles life would never be the same again.
Briony had organised a picnic for everybody in their year. They had gpne off to the woods without any teachers accompanying them. Garry was still not supposed to see his girlfriend but he had managed to sneak into Humblebore's study and get the cloak of invisibility back and he followed on after the main crowd.
"What have they packed in the hamper Bri," the ever hungry Don Beesley asked as the group settled in a clearing.
Briony looked into the big hamper. "There are plenty of sandwiches, chicken, ham, salmon, loads of salad (everyone groaned) and lashings of ginger beer. Dig in everyone.
While the crowd were getting their food, Garry materialised among them.
Briony clapped her hands, "Listen everyone. We know you are enjoying yourselves but me and Garry have something to tell you."
Thirty faces turned towards the pair.
"Um - the - er - thing is," Garry said, sounding awfully like Hugh Grant, Briony thought, "the thing is me and Bri. aren't going to be around for the end of term party."
"We are going backpacking in France," Briony added.
"Yeah, well, - erm - everybody says we have done crap in our exams and neither of us can put a decent spell together since - er - you know…"
"Yeah, we have lost our magic powers, but we have found a new kind of magic haven't we Gaz?"
Garry put his arm around his sweetheart, "all that stuff about spells and wizardry and fighting the dark forces is for kids."
Several voices cried out "no!" or "shame" but Garry went on, "its like Star Wars and Batman, there is no great conflict between good and evil. The world is what it is, shit happens all the time, whatever spells people think they can cast to stop it. The thing is, knowing how to cope with what life throws at you and carry on the best you can, knowing that enough is as much as anyone ever needs, knowing that we are all responsible to each other and to the world, when you see someone who needs a helping hand, being able to tell yourself it IS your business and you should get involved instead of leaving it to God or the government or somebody, that's real magic."
Now everybody was dead silent as Briony continued, "the muggle world is a brilliant place but thanks to people who have been greedy for wealth, thanks to power - trippers who have used the five thousand year old superstitions of an ignorant and primitive tribe of desert nomads to mess up people's heads, thanks to the war mongers who have slaughtered millions because of their culture or skin colour, its in big trouble. Thanks to being here we have learned to see things clearly, but now we must go to learn more and see what we can do to help.
"But you will be back next term," a chorus of voices said.
"Not next term, maybe never," Garry said, "magic has nothing to offer us now, we must go and find our reality."

END

Garry Trotter and the Portal of Pleasure #6

Its best to scroll down to #1 and start from there, otherwise you will get the knob jokes but not much else will make sense.

Briony lifted the lid of her desk and saw the magic soap, amazingly it was back in its wrapping. Underneath it was a note from Prof. Philtre which read, "unfortunately the soap although bought at the Wiz - Mart store is a brand available in any muggle shop. Wizards get dirty too. It does not have the power to levitate or rub itself on your body. Professor Humblebore and I suspect foul play and will be speaking to the person who gave you the soap.
Now that she thought about it Briony did remember feeling as if there were two hands rubbing her body rather than just the one holding the bar of soap. It had felt rather nice actually.
"Especially when he was tickling my…" Briony's train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Sibilant Shush, the Alan - Rickman - lookalike hexes and curses teacher.
"Order everybody. SHADDUP!" Mr Shush bellowed. "Today I want you to pair up for a your curses practical."
In the general melee Briony was making for Garry so that while working on the exercise they could talk about what had happened but Shush steered her towards boring little Dementia Pox.
"You're not working with Trotter today girl, Prof. Philtre thinks you spend too much time together."
"Oh sir…"
"No arguments. Get Pox now."
"Yeah but - yeah but…"
"Now!"
Pouting like a botox lip job Briony found Dementia who was thrilled that she would be working with the smartest girl in the class and chattered excitedly, getting on her partner's nerves as they set out into the Weird Wood.
The project, which would count towards the exam, was to turn something into something else. If you were turning something nice into something nasty or something nasty into something nice, it had to deserve it. Safest option was to turn a pebble into a flower. Nobody got hurt, pebbles had no self awareness and flowers were stupid so that was kind of neutral. If on the other hand you turned a Prince into a toad without him having done something really really bad, questions were bound to be asked. Briony was not in the mood for thinking things through however, she had other problems on her mind.
"Demmy, have you ever been groped?"
"Um groped. Let's see; Ippissimus Stoatmasher tried to stick his tongue in my mouth when we kissed under the mistletoe last Winter Solstice, but I kicked him on the shin. Why?"
"I was groped in the shower."
"In the shower? Wow Bri, I had no idea you were a lezza. Cool."
"Not by a girl, by - erm - well I'm not sure but I think it was Garry."
"Garry, well he's not bad I suppose, a bit serious though."
"Trouble is I thought it was a randy ghost and told Prof. Philtre. I need to warn Gaz. before Humblebore sends for him."
"Why did you let him grope you."
Briony told the story of the heavy breathing she had heard when in the shower, of the magic soap and of the feeling that hands were caressing her wet body."
"Wow Briony that's, like, a sexual experience. Well kewel. You so are the most wickedest girl in our year."
Briony always found it a tad embarrassing when Dementia tried to do street talk. Even so the ruse worked, within an hour all the girls on the exercise knew about it and were trying to find Garry. Prof. Philtre was one step ahead however, she had asked Sibilant Shush to send Garry and Ron to the Mists of Time to see if they could turn then into now.
Frustrated and angry Briony should have let Dementia do the exercise but when they caught Handsome Hare trying to seduce the fairy Cobweb, which was against the rules, she gave the long eared creature no chance to say that it wasn't what it looked like.
"Vain creature I am going to turn you into an ugly goon," she said, raising her magic wand.
"Ah well, hare today, goon tomorrow," sighed Handsome with a shrug. There was a little puff of smoke and in his place stood a creature that looked like a cross between a potato and a homeless tortoise.
"We so are in trouble now," Dementia moaned, "they were only having a snog."
"Don't care," Briony huffed.
The examination had taken all day and as soon as it ended Briony hared off to the shower room. She stripped as quickly as possible and dived into the shower cubicle, saying the magic phrase. Unseen hands picked up the muggle soap and started to caress her. She could not resist enjoying the sensation for a few moments, even though there was something hard and pointy pressing against her bottom. Suddenly she remembered the danger they were in and stamped down where she guessed Garry's foot would be.
"Ow. Watch out."
"Garry, you're in big trouble."
"You told?"
"I thought it was a randy ghost. I wouldn't have minded if you had said."
"Really?"
"Course not, I've fancied you since the end of third year. Take that stupid cloak off and let me see you."
Once both were naked and visible they fell to tongue on tonsil action as they stood under the jet of warm water."
"Do it to me Garry," Briony gasped.
"Do what?"
"It, you know, what those people are doing in your muggle books."
"How did you know."
"Don Beesley told every everybody and we all sneaked into your room for a look. It was very … educational."
"Well I've never…"
"Nor me, but I don't think its absolutely necessary for the boy to have a moustache."
After a lot of fumbling and grunting they did it.
"Oh God, Oh God, Ohgodohgodohgod," Briony squealed.
"Ahem, not exactly. Although theoretically, according to Shamanic tradition we are all part of God, as the oneness is sometimes known," Humblebore's sonourous voice said outside the cubicle.
CHECK IN TOMORROW FOR THE EXCITING CLIMAX TO THIS GARRY TROTTER ADVENTURE.

Garry Trotter and the Portal of Pleasure #5 (adult humour)

This 7 part  parody really has to be read in order [1] ... [2] ... [3] ... [4]...5 ... [Next]

Hormones are rampant at Swimemole Academy for chav wizards. Garry Trotter finds his fascination with Briony's bumps is leading him to take too many risks ...

 

At last Garry had managed to get Briony alone. "Hi Bri," he said, blushing deeply, "I - er - I - er - I sneaked into Wiz - Mart yesterday and got you something. Er - some special soap, not that you whiff or anything but - er - but - er - but I know girls like that sort of thing and - er - you take a lot of showers so I thought you would like some magic soap. When you are in the shower you just say blither - blather - let's have lather and the soap levitates and rubs itself all over you. Smells nice too."

Briony sniffed the bar of soap that Garry was holding towards her. "Mmm, lavender and dragonmusk, my favourite. Thank you Garry, that's sweet of you. I'll use it today, perhaps it will keep the ghost heavy - breather away."

"The what?"

"There's a ghost in the girls shower. I can hear him breathing somewhere above me. I'm going to complain to Prof. Philtre."

"Yeah you should," Garry mumbled and hurried off.

As the bell rang to signal the end of lessons later that afternoon the boy wizard raced upstairs, changed out of classroom clothes into his swimming shorts and then he put on his cloak of invisibility. Carefully he crept out of his room, down the stairs and along the dormitory corridors to the girls showers. It would have been disastrous to bump into anybody but he made it, let himself into the shower room and just had time to take up position in Briony's favoured cubicle before she arrived and started to undress. As she took off her shirt and singlet, revealing the pert breasts he could not suppress a gasp of delight. Briony looked upwards , slightly apprehensive as Garry though what a good word "pert" was. He had learned it from one of his muggle books. Muggles had some great names for dirty stuff.

Now Briony was taking off her skirt and panties. At last he had a close up view of the Portal of Pleasure. It was a bit disappointing really, just a triangle of hair. He had expected something so magical to shimmer or change shape or do something though he did not know what.

The naked girl stepped towards him, this was the moment. Garry had a sudden impulse to run away but there could be no getting past Briony without being noticed. Then she turned on the shower, let the warm water run over her for a few seconds and said " blither - blather - let's have lather."

Again Garry wished he had not done this. He hesitated and the wet girl repeated the phrase. Excitement, fear, confusion and a host of other emotions paralysed him for a second.

"Useless soap," Briony said, reaching out. In a panic Garry grabbed the soap, lifted it and started to rub it on the naked skin that was only inches from him. He soon overcame his nervousness and got more enthusiastic about his task.

"Soap, I don't think we need quite so much lather there." The soap moved away from those oh so desirable breasts and a few seconds later moved again in response to "nor down there thank you."

When all the great masses of bubbles had been rinsed away and Briony had towelled herself dry she looked up at the ceiling again and said, "you're just getting too forward Mister. I'm going to have you exorcised."
"A dirty old man ghost?" said Prof Philtre, "are you sure someone was not playing a trick? Ghosts do not generally have a libido, of if they do it is reserved for ladies of negotiable affection who have been dead for several hundred years. Now tell me about this soap Trotter gave you."

Briony handed over the perfectly ordinary muggle soap and told the teacher how if you said blither - blather - let's have lather, it levitated and washed you.

"Smells fishy to me," the professor of potions said.

"That's probably because it spent too long around you - know - where," said Briony. "That was what made me suspicious."

"I think you were right to be suspicious," the professor said, "but I really do not think the culprit is a randy ghost. Do you mind leaving this with me?"

WILL HARRY BE FOUND OUT AND EXPELLED FROM SWINEMOLES OR WILL HE MANAGE TO TRICK HIS WAY OUT OF ANOTHER DODGY SITUATION. YOU CAN FIND OUT TOMORROW.