A quick glance at Twitter tells me that, according to Peter Serafinowicz, rape is the latest comedy material. Maybe I’m just behind the times, but there was one discovery I made that I just really, really couldn’t let pass.
The Pejazzle. Finally, men are being subjected to the same degrading beauty torture as women, not in the name of equality or insanity, but in the pursuit of bling.
Yup. The Pejazzle. A nifty little arrangement of glitter right above your weenie, just in case someone forgets where it is.
It tells you a lot about the mundanity of these people, that they selected this term from the veritable feast of puns on offer: ball bling, glam glans, shiny shaft, and my personal favourite, cubic zirBONEia, cock-a-doodle; even if there’s a risk you’ll mix it up with your designer dog and come out with a shiny shaved pooch.
I just don’t see the point of sparkly sex organs. When was the last time you plunged yourself between the legs of a hot and sexy man or woman and thought:
“wow, now I really want to lick their bits, they’ve got not-quite-cubic-zircona stuck to their razor rash!”
Oh, yeah. NEVER.
I appreciate the desire to decorate, stamp your mark as an individual, and make your penis or vagina truly memorable, but I promise no two are the same. Once seen, never forgotten (however much you may try).
But if you’re feeling rough as a badger’s arse after a hard night (maybe you have bags under your balls or your labia are beginning to sag a little), the least you could do is make your jazzy genitals useful.
Colour coordinated jelly tots stuck on with icing are a fab snack between orgasms. I’m thinking swirls of sweeties, popcorn public hair, a candy floss clitoris and a breath mint if you just can’t face a post-coital gelatinous cum kiss.
I demand munchies with my scrunchies and noms from his man mons.
Peter Serafinowicz, women of the world and pejazzlers everywhere, I’m telling you, cockfectionary is where it’s at! You heard it here first. Oh wait. Cosmo‘s way ahead of me.