Tuesday, 17 February 2009

[Turtlewind] Kiss of the Turtle!

Romance has been sadly lacking in my life, despite my strict adherence to the guidelines I have detailed elsewhere on this fairly esteemed site. And yet, there was someone once...

As I drifted through the A level system, I spent many long hours thinking about how great it would be to have female companionship. I'd briefly been inspired by Mr Kenneth Branagh's noble cinematic adaptation of Frankenstein, where the unnatural creation yearned for a similarly deformed spouse that would be unafraid of him. The whole world conspired to mock my celibate status. The Lion King showed that cartoon lions were managing to get it on and rubbing the fact in on the big screen, and then I received the news that even my esteemed colleague, the mysterious Mr Doctor Who, a most notorious celibate, was preparing to get a girlfriend on television. This was very nearly the last straw, and I wept bitter tears every evening throughout the early months of 1996.

Then, not for the first time in my eventful life, a curious thing happened. I woke up one morning to find myself in the South of France, teaching English to nubile seventeen year old girls. I spent that first morning in a state of some confusion, as this mirrored so exactly a recurring dream of mine. In fact I spent several hours asking the most nubile of the young ladies exactly when the inter-gender mud wrestling event was going to be taking place.

After several hours, the lycée contacted my French teacher to express concern over the fact that most of my English lessons seemed to consist entirely of bouncing up and down and discussing the benefits of posessing a HUGE WANG. When she arrived at the lycée, she tried to convince me that we had already been in the country on work experience for a week. Now that I think back, I do seem to remember a dark room and a bottle of Calvados. But that's not the point.

In order to humour Madame Tortu, I took to teaching those fine young ladies as much English as I could remember. Imagine my surprise and delight when this only inspired one race riot, when I screened the Crusades episode of Black Adder to a lively group of Turkish immigrants.

But, and you've seen this coming, there was one young lady in particular that caught my eye. Of course, many of the students were jealous of her sturdy cheekbones and ruddy complexion, and tried to tell me that she was actually a strange young man who enjoyed dressing up in skirts. Girls can be really vicious to each other, you know.

Anyway, Georgette (she preferred George for some reason) took something of a shine to her zany young linguistic mentor. I took her words of love with a pinch of salt - after all, I had spent several days teaching them the phrase: 'our young loins tremble at the very mention of the manly and mysterious Mr Turtlewind's HUGE WANG, how we yearn for him to impale us with the bittersweet scorpion sting of wisdom.'

No, it was George's eyes that first convinced me she was the first to fall for the so far useless Turtlewind pheromones. Whatever she was doing, her left eye would always remain fixed upon me during lessons, even when those vicious classmates of hers tapped it with pencils, still she did not so much as blink.

And then came that last fateful day, when it was time for me to end my brief career as a high-powered educator and return to the mean streets of Lynton. I had already had a good day, the nice gendarme had decided not to press incitement charges, and the lycée's administrative lackeys had informed me that there was no charge for the school dinners I had consumed during my stay: apparently my manners had so impressed the French dinnerladies that they had forgotten to ask me for any money. All I actually remember was screaming 'Où est le BREAD?' in their faces every day, but I vaguely recall thinking at the time that they looked thoughtful.

Anyway, I was sneering at the table football machine in the corner and guzzling strawberries from a punnet when who should appear but George. She looked a little upset that I was leaving, so I made to embrace her in a suitably teacherly and paternal fashion.

Oh reader, who can fully describe that ineffable moment when two sets of lips first entwine in a shared reflex of loneliness and soul-crushing angst. It was without question the happiest few seconds of my life.

Ah yes, I could have turned out a very different person indeed, had I not been halfway through eating a strawberry when our lips connected. As I lay gasping for breath on the floor with a piece of new season fruit lodged in my windpipe, frantically pretending (as is my chivalrous nature) that I was dying from PLEASURE.

And so it goes. All the women in my life have caused me crushing pain, and I should not have been surprised that luscious Georgette's broad shoulders spelled the same doom, however well-intentioned. It's just like that famous womaniser Freddie Mercury once wrote: Too much love will kill you. A lesson I learned early in life, for now I walk in the hard vacuum of celibacy.

Think of my strawberry-clogged windpipe next time you are feeling embarrassed.

Happy times and places
Your friend, the Mysterious Mr Turtlewind, Esq

Turtlewind Index


  1. That was one of the most hilarious things I have ever read. It was like stand up comedy in the form of a webpage. You are an excellent writer! Would you like trade links/technorati favs? I found your blog because I run a unique romance blog (hence my arrival at this entry), so if you're interested in how cereal can be romantic or what Santa Claus is really like in a relationship, please stop by!

  2. redshift's cellphone has a mind of it's own17 February 2009 at 04:19

    Redshift'S cellphone has cut it's roots and taken to life on the road! so, obviously the first thing I do is come to redshift.co.uk

    fun article, maybe it needs some fun photoshops or sketches to really set the mood. but then maybe violating it's text-based sanctity would ruin it, like too much marmalade slathered on the toast of our love.