Dicky and Fistula

Bumped into my old schoolchum, Sir Richard ‘Dicky’ Ticker and his wife Lady Fistula. Both fervent and life-long anti-nudists, regarding the human body with a loathing (or is it fear, Freudian chums?) not usually seen outside of the Book of Genesis or the USA.

Not only have they never seen each other nude in a 57-year marriage, they have never even been naked in that time. Ever! Fancy that!

Dicky proudly told me has worn the same neck-to-ankle underpants (bequeathed to him by his father, who started the doolally sect the Brotherhood of Cromwell and had voluntarily hacked his own Johnson off with a Swiss knife) for five years at a time, and that the periodic changeover is a remarkable act of engineering and contortion, assisted only by a tailor who is officially registered blind.

Lady Fistula meanwhile has her knockers encased in some sort of chastity bra contraption – she was encased at the start of puberty – and the key of which was then flushed down the loo. I’ve never had the courage to probe the downstairs arrangements.

I’ve oft told them how silly they are and that they should be enjoying Nudism in their old age, and exposing their no doubt translucent parts to the elements. Inevitably darling silly Fistula starts to weep and begs me to cease my prattle as she can’t even bear to be reminded she actually has a body. Dicky blushes – well, the minimal part of him which is exposed – and threatens to horsewhip me if I don’t shut up.


Odd pair. I am very fond of them though, and put their silliness down to a Vitamin D deficiency.


The curious addendum to this is that they have seven children. If the conceptions weren’t immaculate, then they must at least have been bloody knotty.  As for the births…

Sir Desmond Stirling’s
Now available from Amazon UK
Amazon USA
An eBook for the Kindle from Head Music

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