Jack The Strangler

Good morning Lovers!

Or is it afternoon where you are? Well, either way I have some rather exciting news for you. It’s officially Masturbation Month! Time to let your fingers do the walking, straight downtown! Pop on The Divinyls and get touching people! Delve deep into the recesses of your own personal spank bank and really let loose on the old bean or meat and veg! Tickle the pickle, beat the beaver, drain the monster, hit the slit, adjust the antenna, slam the clam, liquidate the inventory. You get the idea Lovers, now get in there and make your country proud Lovers!

Anyways, now that that community service announcement is out of the way I suppose I should tell you about my date with Jack. Or, as the title so aptly suggests… Jack The Strangler!

I rocked up to Jack’s house just after six o’clock on a warm Saturday evening. I was supposed to be there at five thirty but Jack lived in an impenetrable labyrinth that was accessible only by one secret road, and by secret I mean doorway to Narnia secret. So after what felt like hours of mumbling passwords to passing nymphs and tackling riddles in the form of street signs, I arrived, slightly flustered and badly in need of petrol.

However, a lady does not let these things vex her, or, if they do happen to vex said lady, she never shows such emotions to her gentleman companion. No no, a lady has the utmost poise, elegance and grace under any and all situations.

I knocked on Jack’s door with a ladylike tap and the gentleman answered promptly.

“Fuck me sideways, this place is a bitch to find!”

Because I’m no lady Lovers.

Jack gave me a kiss on the cheek and ushered me inside. Immediately I was hit with a familiar smell.

“Do you have pets?” I asked hopefully, glancing around frantically for a cute pug or fluffy kitten.

“No, why do you ask?” answered Jack, and I realised I’d made my first mistake. I back-pedaled desperately, assuring him that it was just that he seemed like a real animal lover. There was no way I was going to tel him that his house smelled distinctly of eau de feline urine. Luckily he saved me from my ramblings.

“I just moved in and the carpets haven’t been cleaned yet, so it still smells a bit like animals. I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the heavens that I hadn’t mortally offended him. In fact, rather than offend him, it spurred him on to take me for a tour of the house.

Then it was my favourite time of day.

Dinner time.

Jack turned out to be quite the proficient chef, whipping up lamb cutlets with a yummy sweet potato salad… thing.There was only one problem. My father is a staunch believer that you shouldn’t eat an animal until it’s good and dead. And when I say dead, I mean cooked all the way through until there’s not a speck of pink left in that sucker. Grey meat is good meat in my family. So you can imagine my horror when Jack attempted to place a still squealing lamb cutlet directly onto my plate.

“No!” I cried, quite over dramatically I might add. Jack looked up from the pan in alarm, “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern etched on his chiseled brow.

“I can’t eat it like that,” I squealed “It’s still kicking!”

Jack laughed and went to place the bleating sheep on my plate once more. I shook my head. “I really can’t eat it like that.” I said apologetically, watching as blood dripped from the still breathing sacrifice into the pan with a sizzle. Jack sighed and agreed to cook my meat a bit longer.


What I didn’t expect however, was that as I stood watch while my lamb was read his last rights and finalised his will, was Jack sitting himself down at the table and getting stuck into his food!

Now don’t get me wrong Lovers, I know I was being difficult with my food prejudices and all, but still, he could have waited! So of course just as I was sitting down to eat, Jack was smacking his lips and congratulating himself on a job well done.

Ok, I thought, he ate first. A bit annoying, but it’s certainly no deal breaker, I’m sure we’ll still have a lovely conversation at the table as I eat and he lets his food settle.

But wrong again!

Not moments after I had taken a seat and begun eating, Jack stood up, mosied over to the couch and flicked the tv on!

“Uh, don’t you want to stay over here for a bit?” I asked, completely perplexed at his behaviour.

“Nah it’s cool, you can just join me when you’re done.”

Urgh, I was on a date with a complete fuck knuckle. Great.

I nodded and turned back to my meal, muttering under my breath the dozen gentlemanly procedures he was eschewing.

Once finished, I walked over to the couch and looked down at him.

“Thanks for dinner, it was really nice.” I said as earnestly as possible.

Without warning Jack’s hand snapped up and grabbed me around the neck. I gasped in suprise but before I could do anything he yanked me onto him with alarming force.

Had I pissed him off or something?

“You’re very welcome.” he breathed seductively, and kissed me. Hard.

Like, are you trying to kiss me or maim me hard.

What on earth was going on? Who was I on a date with? When we finally broke apart and I could breathe again I mumbled “Um, ow.”

Jack laughed, “You think that hurt? Watch this!” And with that he proceeded to dig his thumb into the pressure point on my neck.

Any ladylike tendencies I may have been holding in completely dissipated at that moment.

“Argh what the fuck!?” I cried, leaping off him as quickly as I could.
“Oh come on,” he laughed, “I didn’t even do it that hard, you’re just being a baby.”

I scowled at him for a long moment before collecting myself and calmly telling him, “ok so you and I both know you could break me in half with just your pinky, but I really don’t need you to demonstrate!”

Jack looked at me, genuinely confused.

I sighed and said “I don’t like it when you’re rough with me.”

This was again met with laughter and the confirmation that I was, indeed, a baby. However, after all the insulting of my age was over, he seemed to get the point.

After that delightful conversation it was time to pick a movie. Oh boy what a choice he had.

I could pick anything I wanted; so long as it was a war movie.

He had old war movies, new war movies, foreign film war movies, animated war movies, avant-garde war movies and everything in between.

I scrolled through the mess that was his movie collection, desperate for something, anything that didn’t involve mass killing.

“Don’t you have any other movies?” I asked dolefully.

“Pfft, why would I? These movies are the best!” Jack then went on to tell me in graphic detail his favourite death scenes from a dozen or so movies.

Seriously, who the hell was this guy? I thought someone just out of the army would be staying away from stuff like this, not immersing himself in it constantly!

“So you like violence huh?” I asked, my heart dropping as I knew this was the second and last date I would be having with him.

“Yeah,” he said eagerly “especially when it’s realistic. Did you see Saddam Hussein’s execution video?”

I swallowed audibly before replying “Ah no, I must have missed that one.”

“It was great,” he gushed ” you saw everything. I loved watching that bastard die.”
Fuck a duck! This was getting heavy.

“Well he was a very, very bad man,” I agreed cautiously, “but surely seeing any person executed, no matter how awful they were, is pretty un-enjoyable?”

Bad move Claire. The next twenty minutes were spent ramming Saddam Hussein facts down my throat and assuring me the video was a great pick me up if I was ever having a bad day.

To change the subject, I hurriedly selected the first title I saw, some random movie about some secret mission where everybody dies or some crap like that. I just desperately wanted to get off the topic of terrorism. I mean really, it’s not exactly a mood enhancer is it?

We settled down to watch men explode in several different and graphic ways. The opening credits had barely finished when Jack grabbed me and kissed me.

Uh, ok.

Surely he could at least let me get a gist of the story before he started all this nonsense? Apparently not.

There I was, locked in his iron tight embrace, the sweet sound of machine guns and screams of agony echoing in my ears, attempting to kiss the hulk.

That’s when he grabbed my ponytail and yanked it to the side.

Holy fucking bitchcakes!

I reached up and untangled his hand from my hair, giving it a little slap as I did so in an attempt to communicate my displeasure. I would have told him but apparently my mouth was not being released any time soon.

How could this date get any worse?

Oh it did Lovers, it really did!

Claire xx

Pick up line of the Week: You’re beautiful has the letter U in it, but ‘quickie’ has U and I together!





  1. adventuresofasluttygirl · May 3, 2016

    “I won’t sleep on the wet spot!”


  2. Gina Daniele · May 5, 2016

    Hunny I think you sent your notes for the next blog post at the bottom of this….
    I can’t wait to read the full version
    Gina 🙂

    Sent from my iPhone



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s