Tag Archive: sex


Antony N Britt is delighted to announce the release of his latest novel – Finding Jessica.

Buy now by clicking here.

Jessica, Jessica, who were you? And what brought you to that bar last night?

Rob Devlin. Former TV investigative reporter, former alcoholic, formerly alive. The experience in an afterlife of near-death ends when Rob’s soul returns to the body. The wrong body.

Jessica Davies was the stranger Rob died trying to save; the reward is to live her life. But was it more than chance they met? Rob needs answers and unable to resume his old life, one option remains. She must become Jessica. First, Rob needs to know who Jessica was and in order to put things right, Rob must set about finding Jessica.

From the author of Dead Girl Stalking and Ghost Stories: Tales from the Dead of Night, Finding Jessica is available on Amazon.

“I believe horror is not zombies and vampires. Horror is us.” ~ Antony N Britt.

Finding Jessica is available here.

Cheers

Antony N Britt

Sexually addicted to blogging.

Last week, I tried an experiment to see if using sexual terms in my blog and tags increased the number of visitors to my site. Result? Twice as much actually, though I would like to argue they appreciated my wit, opinion and the bit about falling down the lavatory, far more than cheap crudity.

Still, it was on the subject of sex that I blogged my first ever post on Myspace all those years ago. Yes, I have to admit, I was once, a blogging virgin.

No!!! Not that kind of virgin. I was speaking about being a novice in terms of writing, back then. The original post, I can confess now, was only two lines long but you have to understand, it was my first time and it all came out before I knew it.

However, I tried again the next week and I caressed the keyboard a little more tenderly this time. I found taking a bit longer, achieved greater lasting and more satisfying results. Posts were still rare though. In fact, I was only making entries a couple of times a month as my blog-life wasn’t anything to shout about at that point. Still, as I became more experienced, my reputation grew, attracting interest from others. Suddenly, it was not I doing the chasing, people instead, wanted me. I was in demand. The joy I could give by the use of my fingers alone was amazing. This became so much so that I was soon blogging every night. I have to say, it gave me a buzz. Folk commended me on my technique and varying style and soon I branched out into all sorts of diverse ways. Be it words of love or even a bit of hardcore sadism, but I was always in control. Well, you know, I just like to be on top of things.

The trouble was, it all got out of control. I’d say to folk, ‘Sorry, I’m just going to stay and wash my hair tonight.’ However, as soon as I’d got the top off the Head and Shoulders, I’d be back online. I didn’t know how to say no.

I guess you could have called me promiscuous in blogging terms at the time. I was at it every day, sometimes two to three times a night. Occasionally, I was not quite in the mood so I had to look at other peoples blogs, you know, to see if it would arouse and stimulate me. It usually did and then I was well away; my hands having a mind of their own. After that, it was back to my own blog and pleasing the public once more. I’m like it now, always wanting to leave folk satisfied and there is no greater pleasure than being in the knowledge that you have delivered multiple entries and have the reader begging for more.

Still though, I do have a bit of a confession to make on the matter. You see during that time, I occasionally posted on other sites. Gasp! I played away. Was I really being unfaithful? Moreover, it gets worse. One site actually paid me for the pleasure of my services. Oh my God, does this mean I was working as a blogging prostitute? It only paid pennies too. Heavens, I was cheap into the bargain.

In the end, I sought counselling but in my defence, nothing I did was illegal and I wasn’t harming anyone. It was my own body, after all.

I’ve calmed over the years though but I am still always available. Whether it be a tender slow post, or just a little quickie, I am here, ready and willing as always.

And an audacious bid for freedom.

Jailbird, Ronaldo Silva, got out of prison in Penedo, Brazil by swapping clothes with his wife who was there for a visit. Having prepared, shaved his legs and applied lipstick, Silva strode past guards and was only captured when a policeman nearby, noticed the man walking funny.

So this is what fooled the prison guards? I have to say, there must be some fucking ugly women visiting Penedo Jail.

A cure for all ills?

So I see two bigoted organisations, the Core Issues Trust and Anglican Mainstream, have been banned from running an ad campaign that claims homosexuality can be cured. Correct me if I’m wrong, but since when has being gay, meant you are ill? Also, I’ve never herd of any gay people saying they wanted to change.

So once again, we have these religious fanatics, trying to impose their fairy tales onto the minds of rational thinking folk and to an extent, getting away with it.

I agree with Mark Twain. I’m going to start a campaign. I’m offering to cure people of the religion blighting their lives.

Things to do …

I read an article the other day which described a ‘to-do’ list that had been unearthed in some documents belonging to Leonardo da Vinci. Now considering the report came during early April, I was naturally very sceptical. However, it was April 5 when it hit the news, so it must be true, unless they got the timing of the joke wrong.

I digress. I was more intrigued by the list and what Leonardo’s reminders of things to do, might actually be.

Leo’s things to do – Sunday.

1. As it’s Easter, paint a picture depicting The Last Supper. Remember to have Christ being shown as a greedy bastard who ate all the pies before his disciples even got started, then have his men point while saying, ‘I knew we should have got extra fries.’

2. Remember to get back to Pope Julius with that quote for the Sistine Chapel, in case that bastard Michelangelo, undercuts my price.

3. Get another model for that latest painting. The one I’m using, doesn’t quite cut it.

4. Design a helicopter. It’ll catch on in no time at all.

5. Oh yes. Do that trick of standing sideways by a mirror then raising your arm and leg, then incorporate it into a drawing about geometric proportions and see if anybody notices I’m taking the piss.

Well, did the earth move for you with that blog?

Thank you to all who’ve consented to share a bed with me in my blogging experience today. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me and we all came to the same conclusions at precisely the right moment. Hope it wasn’t an anticlimax and you’re feeling let down. If you are – sorry, I’m sure you understand. It can happen to anybody.

Cheers.

Nick

Happy Easter, everybody …

Now you may have begun to get the impression from previous posts, I’m not the most religious person around. However, I do respect beliefs and the reasons for celebrating this time of year. Easter – That’s the time we rejoice in the swapping of chocolate and force our kids to make silly crepe-paper hats. Right?

Somebody I know who is dear to me, is going to kill me for that picture but in my defence, it was me who spent all night gluing their fingers together, nearly twenty years ago today.

But back to the chocolate. I recall an incident from a couple of years ago when I bought a load of eggs at a local supermarket. The offer was that they were all half-priced. Great, I needed nine. It was only when I got to the checkout that the cashier said there was a maximum allowance of six per customer.

‘Where does it say that?’ I asked, dumfounded.

‘On the advertising board.’

They were right. On a 6×3 placard, hanging above me, it said, “This offer is limited to 6 per customer.” The thing was, these words of guidance were ten feet high in the air and in a smaller font than the one you’re currently reading.

Undeterred, I smiled at Mrs Unhelpful Jobsworth – Happy to Serve, and promptly separated my eggs into two piles of 5 and 4, dividing them with a next customer please, thingy.

Mrs Jobsworth looked at me, aghast. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m buying five.’ I then pointed behind. ‘And he’s having four.’

‘But … there’s nobody there.’

I looked at her – stern. ‘Don’t you ridicule my paranoia.’

And then she served me, unable to come back from that. I don’t know what troubled her more: the fact I’d challenged her concept of natural order or that I was wearing a t-shirt that spelled, “They don’t let me have sharp knives any more.”

Hah! Jobsworths. Mess with me and you’re messing with an expert.

What a load of rubbish.

Okay, I get it now. I know why my bins are not being emptied until late in the afternoon. The refuse collectors are all hiding and congregating in some kind of refuse collector bonding session.

And what’s more … My bin goes back outside my house and not, on its side in the middle of the road.

Pride comes before a fall.

Okay, I get it now, you girls; I see where you’re coming from. There really is nothing more surprising that lowering yourself onto the lavatory and finding some bastard has left the seat up, meaning you end up falling down the pan.

Optimising your potential.

I’m still getting to grips with this blog-site lark. It was fine on Myspace because everything was done for you but now, I apparently have to optimise my search engine potential. To do this, I need to use keywords and also have them as tags, so that they attract more visitors to my site. With this in mind … sex, masturbate, transsexuals, porn. How about that for starters? Be interesting to see if I get any more hits this week.

Nob of the week.

I reckon this has to be rugby ponce, Gavin Henson. Henson, had the incredibly stupid idea of flying on a plane, then while thousands of feet in the air, endangering everybody on board by having an ice-cube fight.

It’s not the first time he’s courted idiotic publicity and none more so than appearing on his own show, The Bachelor. In the programme, 25 women fought for the right to become Gavin’s girlfriend. Good to know relationships are made from solid foundations.

The Bachelor – The words, barrel, bottom and being scraped spring to mind

The winner, Carianne Barrow, told how they split after she realised Henson had no true feelings for her.

Jaw drops – NO!

With that sort of effect on women, it’s no wonder he has to resort to playing with ice cubes. He should have stuck with former wife, Charlotte Church. He and the Voice of an Angel, divorced a few years back and Henson’s life has gone to pot ever since. Perhaps next, he’ll turn to religion. Well, he did spend most of his married life inside a Church.

Footballers behaving badly.

Manchester City striker (and perennial nob-head), Mario Balotelli, is being quizzed by police after allegedly soaking some teenage girls at a nightclub. What a crime. Does he not realise there’s a hosepipe ban?

Quick Question.

Will somebody please tell me the point of Russell Brand?

Not such a technophobe, now!

I’ve had my Android phone for nearly a year and only just worked out how to alter the size of the font on my texts.

Yay! I’m a happy android and I can ditch those glasses I bought now.

The cold callers are giving up on me.

You may remember my tale of the cold caller who I kept on the phone for half an hour, ending when I put him on standby, listening to Queen. Well, word must have got around if the call I took the other day is anything to go by.

Ring.

I pick up, say hello, hear somebody ask if they’re speaking to Mr Britt – Blah-de-blah-de-blah! Let’s progress.

‘I am ringing about the wrong selling of a PPI,’ the foreign-sounding caller said in an almost unrecognisable accent.

‘Okay,’ I replied, preparing to string him along.

However, the cold caller took me by surprise. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you,’ he said. ‘A nice day to you.’ And then he hung up.

??? I didn’t even get a chance to say I wasn’t interested.

Word really has got out. Either that, or they can sense the word piss-taker, just by the tone of my voice.

And the conversation of the week.

I overheard this one when I was eating out, having breakfast the other day.

Girl smiles across the table to boy. ‘Would you still love me if I was fat?’

Boy smiles. ‘Of course I would.’ Face drops, horror spreads across his cheeks. ‘You’re not going to get fat, are you?’

Classic.

Happy Easter Sunday Roast to you all.

Hope you’re all having a good day. I’m off to discover the true meaning of Easter and tuck into a chocolate egg. Mine’s a Crunchie.

Cheers.

Nick

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