If you want a real thrill in your domestic life, try ironing whilst naked.
I did it this evening, and it was a sexy adventure. It's a real rush knowing that you're inches away (many inches, mind you) from scalding an important body part. The last thing anyone wants is for their little soldier to get all burned and blotchy like a Falklands veteran.
But that's what life's like on the edge. Now I know what it must be like to do extreme sports, or eat human flesh. It's exciting.
I managed to escape unscathed and unscalded though. I might have to escalate to naked bacon-frying, naked knife-sharpening, or naked ice-hockey.
The trouble with naked ironing, is it really highlights the stark contrast between crisp, smooth shirts and the most creased of all body parts. In the back of my mind, I contemplated resting myself on the board and flattening the whole thing out. It would be a decent look for me - akin to having a leather pouch between my legs. It would be like a sporran. I've always wanted something to bond me to my British heritage and this seems like a good way.
Gaelic pipes, warm peat, the mists rising over the moors, and a taut, lubricious ball-bag.
Also, I often need somewhere to carry my change.
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I probably shouldn't post this one.
Definitely probably shouldn't.
