27 January 2008
Interlude: Perfection in a Top Hat
January, 1857.
I have long suspected that I am the very paragon of perfection. That may sound like cheap, lazy arrogance, but when one is as continually astounding as I, and blessed with such devastatingly good looks, it is hard not to come to the conclusion that I must be the very last word in male excellence. It cannot be arrogant to simply state the facts as they are presented, can it?
I mean one only has to gaze upon my handsome form to see what I mean. I would roger me senseless in a heartbeat.
Today I have learnt that my sneaking suspicion is indeed iron-clad, irrefutable, undeniable truth; for it seems that my noble self has been selected as the very definition of the ideal man by the fabulous Uncle Loquacious, in his own wondrous writings. In response to a desperate plea from a lovely lady seeking her perfect man, the Loquacious chap suggests (quite correctly) that I would fit the bill, and urges the distressed damsel to couple with my good self, “before someone else does”.
Now, as I have been rightly tagged as being officially perfect, and with the inevitable mad dash to secure my affections that will ensue, I must implore all my beautiful female readers to try and form an orderly queue. There is plenty of Lord Likely to go around, if you get my meaning.
I mean my penis is simply massive.
However, ladies, if you were to start pushing and shoving in the queue, frantically clawing at one another and tearing off each other’s clothes whilst in the clutches of your fevered, lust-crazed desires upon my person, then I would not mind at all. In fact, I dare say I would find such a scenario incredibly arousing, and would probably start pounding my Palmerston with such fervour that I would gush forth a torrent of my noble nob-butter, which I imagine you would quickly lap up like starving kittens at a bowl of milk…
What on Earth was I talking about? My mind seems to have wandered elsewhere. My apologies.
Anyway, it seems that as well as being heralded as the epitome of perfection, I am also gallivanting off on further escapades in an astonishing adventure I do not quite recall. Having said that, I am frequently drunk, and I have been bashed upon the head more times than I’d care to mention, so it is entirely possible that the scenario delightfully described by Lord Lobo did actually occur, and I just cannot remember.
Anyhow, many thanks indeed to Lobo for this heart-warming tribute to my glorious self. I salute you, sir.
Now if you will excuse me, I am going to venture out to the town, and see how many women wish to be touched by perfection.
Did I mention that I am perfect, by the way?
- Lord Likely.
Post-script: Lord Likely wishes to pass on his thanks to the numerically-monickered Nine, one of the lovely administrators at the equally lovely Blog Catalog, for creating the powerfully erotic portrait you see above. Truly, he has captured his lordship in all ravisihing glory.
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