The opening chapter of the new Labour porn novel – you know, to get Michelle started
H. P. Baxxter has written the opening lines of the first ever Partit Laburista porn novel, which he will be submitting to Sensiela Kotba Socjalisti (SSS), publishers of such best-sellers as L-Iskandlu tal-Mistra.
It is nowhere near as good as the chapter I’m sorely tempted to write, but unlike H.P., I have children whose blushes must be spared. They have enough to contend with already without their mother writing amusing porn scenes for Michelle Muscat.
So over to you, H.P. You are all invited to write and submit chapters of your own, always bearing in mind that this is a family blog site and that I have no wish to be arrested as a purveyor of obscenity.
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FIFTY SHADES OF RED
The intern was hunched over a laptop in the Communication Director’s office, hard at work updating the campaign website. Byson noticed the glow as he passed down the corridor on his way to see the Leader.
Why is anyone still working at this ungodly hour, he wondered?
He crept silently to the door, and noticed it was open a crack. Peering inside, he could see the intern, typing away furiously. Oh, how those nimble fingers brushed over that keyboard, pouring torrents of text in thick lines over the virgin-white html template!
The effort of writing was making the intern pant. Byson could hear the soft sighing sounds, and felt a familiar stirring in his own pants.
He remembered a line from Verlaine: “Qui n’ose rien ne gagne rien.” Or was it Rimbaud? It was too late. The intern had turned and was looking straight at him, those eyes meeting across the plush-carpeted room. The tension was electric.
Byson flashed a smile as he strode over to the intern’s desk. The intern looked up, the eyes like those of a doe caught in the headlights. Nervous yet expectant.
The pupils were dilated. Byson had seen that look before. Written on those lovely features were nights of endless pleasure and sweet nothings whispered on sweat-covered tremulous flesh.
“And what might your name be?” ventured Byson.
“Quintyon,” replied the intern, in a deep masculine voice, the word making his strong stubbled jawline flex with pulsating energy.
28 Comments Comment
Reply to Harry Purdie Click here to cancel reply
H.P., you had me at Byson. Riveting!
At this rate, Joseph’s government will last all of nine and a half weeks.
You should write about the size of their head and its growth within the next 7-9 months.
For a brief second, Quintyon visualized his deep goatie rubbing and rubbing, bristle against bristle. That static force field that she imagined could exist between them.
“I’m Byson, pleased to meet you” he said, thrusting his hand forward a little too fast.
Hilarious, Baxxter. The red thugs are already out in mass looking for you. Possibly we can share a cell.
I’ll dress up like Holly Golightly and smuggle a file in a cake into prison, if you share that cell.
Good idea, Andrea. Could you please make a chocolate raspberry Bavarian cake? Baxxter likes sweet stuff.
Is Byson in any way related to Stephen Ciantar?
Eagerly waiting for the next chapter.
Please take it easy – it might not be what the doctor ordered for my heart condition.
I’m sorry, but Daphne will be missing your story. She said she hates porno.
Maybe, you being one of her favourites, she might make an exception for once.
OMG this is absolutely brilliant. I can’t stop laughing.
Keep them coming.
Dottore mela m’ghandkomx xoghol bhalissa l-ministeru, biex tajtha ghall-kitba tan-novelli psataz.
Psatas? L-unika zewg pastazati huma z-zewg ismijiet li ghazel – it-tip ta’ ismijiet li ssib b’certu abbundanza fl-istitutizjoni fejn beda l-istorja tieghu l-kittieb celebri, Baxxter.
BRAVO ENCORE
hahahaha! U tghid li l-laburisti hamalli u vulgari!
Ha nghidlek x’inhu hamallu u vulgari, il-mibgheda u l-intern ahdar li int and the usual suspects, ghandkom towards all those that threaten Gonzi’s premiership, as if it were the best thing to hit this country ever.
Meta fil-fatt jikkwalifika ghal wiehed mill-ghar prim ministru fl-istorja ta’ din l-hekk imsejjha art helwa.
I don’t really care for Gonzi’s premiership. What I do really, really care about is that Labour and the old dinosaurs do not get another chance at ruining our lives again.
Given the global economic climate, Gonzi’s premiership was a spectacular success. Labour proposed the living wage – enough said.
Having experienced five prime ministers in the course of my life, I can assure you that the Mintoff and KMB years were the absolute pits.
Be it the economy, human and civil rights, political ideology, international respect – in fact in every aspect Labour could fail, they failed miserably while half a nation of idiots cheered them on.
L-intern ahdar? Are you serious?
What about you then?
Calling Dr. Gonzi the worst prime minister. Really? Worse than Mintoff, KMB and Sant?
Din l-art helwa vera, imma qatt ma kienet helwa taht dawk li ghamlu minnha prostituta ta’ Gaddaffi, Kim Il Sung u l-kumplament tar-racanc tad-dinja.
Iva, il-parti l-kbira tal-Laburisti hamalli u vulgari – sorry if the truth hurts but we all know that is a fact.
Dr. Gonzi is a gentleman but more importantly for Malta, he has been the best possible man for the job we entrusted him with.
A typical Laburist.
Imisshom jghadduha ligi li nies bhalek jintbaghtu jghixu f’pajjiz civilizzat qalb nies mohhom miftuh, imqar ghal sentejn, forsi timmaturaw ftit u titghallmu x’inhi id-differenza bejn vulgarita, hammallagni, intern ahdar u sens tajjeb ta’ umorizmu u l-liberta tal-espressjoni.
Tal-ghageb kif fil-gzejjer Maltin, fis-sena 2012 nofs il-popolazzjoni, jew aktar, ghandha mentalita tixtiebah ferm ma dik tal-Korea ta’ fuq. Inkredibli.
Hekka progressivi wkoll!
That was good. Baxxter is actually a better writer than E.L. James. Incidentally the downfall of literature : http://www.itv.com/news/update/2012-08-07/fifty-shades-of-grey-becomes-britains-best-selling-book-ever/
I think the word you were looking for is “smut”.
And best selling British book ever? Not by a long shot. Just from my own favourites I can think of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy…
Just did a quick Google search and A Tale of Two Cities appears to share the top spot as the best selling book in any language ever with Le Petit Prince, with around 200 million copies sold.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_best-selling_books
I lost it at Quintyon. 10/10, would read again.
Since it would seem I my profile has now been posted among the FBI’s most wanted, I may as well go out with a bang.
Oh, I said bang.
————————————
Byson smiled. He was expecting a soft, delicate voice, a schoolboy’s almost, but this was strong and steady. Not the voice of an intern. Here was a future leader. It almost made him blush.
“I was just wondering what you were doing here, Quintyon. Oh, and by the way, I’m Byson, the Chief Strategist.”
“Just updating the campaign website. We’re designing some new billboards and posting them on various social media.”
“Social media.” Byson loved how he said that. His Adam’s apple moved up and down with each syllable, and the tendons in his neck stood out like the rigging on a mast.
“Quintyon, I think you may call it a day. You don’t want to overwork yourself. You’re just an intern, remember?”
Quintyon gazed at him with a steely look. Then he stood up, his fists clenched, his monobrow contracted like a black recurved bow.
“I may be just an intern, but intend to work every hour god gives me to make sure we win this goddamn election!”
Byson almost melted. That voice! And those muscles on those forearms as he clenched his fists. Those broad shoulders! He felt about to explode.
“Take it easy,” he blurted out, “I was just teasing. But you really should get some sleep now. I was just leaving myself.”
This was a lie of course. The Leader was still in his office, waiting for Byson. Byson was torn between loyalty to his leader and the magnetic attraction of this new intern.
Leader be buggered!
“D’you want a lift or anything, Quintyon?”
“I…” For the first time, Quintyon hesitated. He looked bashful, like a young choirboy, hesitant and shy.
“Why, yes, thanks a lot. I spent an hour waiting in line last time I tried Arriva!”
A giggle ran through the two of them, Quintyon’s pectoral muscles rising and falling with the spasms of his masculine mirth, and Byson’s own high-pitched laugh, like the chirping of a thousand woodpeckers resonating around the empty office.
“Come along then, turn off that laptop and I’ll drive you home.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Excellent piece Baxxter. However I have a feeling that if Labour are elected to government, you’d be among the first people to get out of the country.
Hahahahaaa…
I am loving this.
And off they went with their big ponies into the dark horizon at the Mile End.
Pure gold. Prosit Baxxter. When can we expect he rest of it, or was this simply a tease?
I’ll post the end of the first chapter tomorrow. The story will contain all the elements of all successful airport novels put together: romance, erotica, action, conspiracy, you name it. This summer’s blockbuster is happening here and now. On Daphne’s Blog.
Brilliant, Baxxter.