Holy Moly

A Valentine for my Wife

*I have just been reliably informed that the story upon which this post is based is a spoof story. I know, I know, I am a festering dilbert. Still feel free to read it, though. No, really.

You know, one of the reasons I love being a member of the human race is that other humans never cease to provide me with mirth. No, not because they have superior humour, but because they do things that are so staggeringly absurd that their faces actually appear under the definitions of ‘astonishing’, ‘shocking’ and ‘as mad as bat-shit’ in the Oxford English Dictionary. Which is why, today, I present to you Mr and Mrs Crocker, the “double-holy” newlyweds.

Indeed, the Crockers are better known as Jon and Darla, a nuptial coupling that has hit the news for its inexplicable desperation to never resort to sexual contact. Now these guys refrained from doing the hot-flap fandango for their 14 month courtship, which is just fine if you enjoy shopping while wearing a blindfold, but they have now carried this un-sexual congress into their 25 month marriage too.

Darla, bless her boff-starved mind, has declared that this makes the mirage, sorry, I mean marriage, “double-holy”. Yet there’s more. Darla also explains how they sometimes “start having bedroom thoughts” but she nips this freakish biological reaction in the love bud by spraying her face with cool water while he eats a whole raw potato to turn himself off. No. I didn’t make that last bit up. The ball-bulging, spaff-saving, flush-cheeked, bow-legged Jon Crocker actually turns himself off by feasting on mashable Lady Balfours. And there I was getting through the morning shower by imagining dead kittens.

Look, far be it from me to point and stare at someone else’s marriage but come on. What in the firmament of fuck is going on with this pair? Now it’s clear that the Bible is important to them and that God is the third person in their marriage. The problem is that when they go to bed at night God clambers in between them like a sticky toddler shrieking with laughter because grown-ups have pubic hair.

At what point does refusing to pothole the conjugal caverns make you “doubly-holy”? I’ve heard some abundantly deranged interpretations of the bible in my time but this is a corker. All of those years that right-wing Christians have, er, banged on about how sex should only be conducted inside marriage betwixt a man and a woman and it turns out that even the marital waggling of the spitting python was out of bounds.

So if celibacy within marriage makes you “holy” does sex within marriage make you unholy? A bit like an easy shag but with a joint bank account and a grumbling arse-basket of a father-in-law. Fuck knows, as much as I adore being nuptially tethered to Conjugal Kraken, any marriage has to have some perks. Take away a nookly plunder while Kraken Junior is cackling at Doc McStuffins and we may as well lob ourselves off the nearest motorway bridge.

Apart from which, what gives the Crockers the idea that this abstention is actually holy anyway? What does that say about husband and father, the Archbishop of Canterbury? I mean, imagine spending your entire marriage feasting on raw Maris Pipers only to, upon death, be greeted by God as she wipes tears of hysteria from her eyes and droplets of wee from her collapsed gusset, before shrieking, “You have to be shitting me!”. It’s enough to make me wish there was a god in the first place.

So, no. Scoffing assorted starchy tubers rather than your married partner doesn’t make you “double holy”. It makes you as unhinged as it’s possible to get without being surrounded by padding. They’re smiling now but I reckon that if you visit the Crockers in five years’ time they’ll be openly dry-humping laundry baskets and next door’s hound. Holy? Nah, I reckon they just misread the word ‘hole’.

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5 Responses to Holy Moly

  1. Lauren Jewhurst (@laurenbigeejit) says:

    This is utterly ludicrous. That’s all I have to say!!!!

  2. Lynchie says:

    To be fair though, it’s the logical extension of the some of the more hysterical stories you read about abstinence programmes. I especially like the American commentator who called those of us that live together before getting hitched ‘live-in harlots’. I quite like the sound of being a harlot.

  3. Steve says:

    You got played: this is satire. But Poe’s Law is always in effect.

    • The Kraken says:

      Aye, played a good ‘un. Perhaps the problem isn’t that I got played but that human astound me to such an extent that I’ll believe anything of them.

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