Dear Spunky
I'm a 23 year old man and I've recently married the girl of my dreams. She's beautiful, loving, and attentive, and I worship the ground she walks on. However our sex life is an utter shambles due to my reliance on the shipping forecast to become aroused. Unless, I'm either tuned in to a live broadcast at 12.50am or 05.20am on BBC Radio 4, or listening to a podcast, I'm unable to maintain an erection, and sometimes I can't even get aroused at all. My wife's been very understanding and says it doesn't matter to her, but I'm not so sure.
Can you give me any advice on this one Spunky as I'm at my wits end.
Stuart James
Sunderland
'Turned On' To The Shipping Forcast
Dear Stuart
As a Thai ladyboy and masturbation guru of more than 25 years standing, I come across problems almost identical to yours on a regular basis, so there's no need to feel isolated or "odd" in any way.
My advice is always the same when it comes to this one. Simply divorce your wife, making sure she's well provided for of course, then spend your evenings and early mornings masturbating into a sock during the broadcast you mention. The benefits will be twofold, in that you'll be able to pleasure yourself, unhindered, as you listen to the prevailing maritime weather conditions, and you'll also be able to watch sport on television without having to listen to a load of tutting and whining.
"Bill Giles pictured with anti-spadge shield last night"
I can well understand, and even, identify with your problem here Stuart, as even a seasoned old pro like myself, has, on occasion, succumbed to the erotic allure of reports of an area of low pressure, bringing light precipitation and poor visibility to Tyne, Dogger, and Malin Head, and has been forced to seek release as a result. We're all only human at the end of the day.
I remember well, how on one occasion, I completely lost control when I spotted weatherman Bill Giles, in the street, shortly after he'd broadcast the 5.20am forecast. I'm afraid I immediately took myself in hand and blasted a scalding wad of spadge up the back of his trousers. I then made my excuses and left.