That's Always a Social Faux Pas

Exactly how do you go about shoving a dildo up a dog's arse?

Week one of our "Being Bad" module at University left us (well...me mainly) pondering such an uncomfortable task. That poor creature having it's rectum defiled by a sex toy designed to keep wives from missing their husbands. The very notion that someone, somewhere, held the offending item in one hand, caught sight of the dog walking past and thought "I know what'll be a laugh."

Right, many of you have stopped reading at this point. (I'm surprised some of you made it this far) However, for those who are still with me allow me to explain.

In this introductory lecture we were, after being subjected to a long-winded discussion on what we can expect in this module, asked to jot down on a piece of a paper a 'bad' thing we had done in the past. Perhaps even the baddest thing we had ever done. After which each confession was folded up and jumbled up in a box - like some sort of pensioner raffle prize draw where first prize is a tin of Whiskers and some cod liver oil. You can guess what came next. Yeah, we all took turns choosing a confession from the box and contemplating what was written on the piece of paper.

Suffice it to say the majority of the ones that were drawn out by people around me were of sub par standard. Nothing juicy or interesting of any sort. Some of them couldn't have been any worse if I'd unfolded the paper and the only thing staring me in the face were the words "I once did something not good".

So no, I didn't get the "I once shoved a dildo up my dog's arse" confession. That one was circling a select few people in the room. Many of whom recoiled back in disgust. Some people passed it off as nothing more than a lie. While others (myself included) contempated the ethics behind this foul act. How one manages to insinuate the act of inserting a dildo into a dogs arsehole without the confused and possibly frightened animal struggling to fightoff the pervert was one asset of the debate. And the obvious "why" question hung over all our heads as the confession was read out aloud having no idea who the scribe was. We saw no hint of any red-faced, teary-eyed person, nor spotted a panicking person heading for the nearest exit through fear of being lynched.

We all kind of came to the conlusion in the end that the person was in fact lying. And if not, well there may just be a small household pet wandering around the house bow legged with his ears down in shame.




Yeah, as the vast majority of confessions in todays lecture were somewhat on the lame side, I thought I would post a link to this confessions website. See people expose their most inner secrets to the Internet public.