Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Unfortunately, this story has been exposed as a hoax, but it did make me spray my laptop liberally with tea. Enjoy.
Sitting on her plastic-covered scarlet arm-chair in the boudoir of her Gzira home, one would be forgiven for thinking Doris Borg is just a regular sweet old granny. But while she is indeed sweet as kannoli, she also has a more illicit side: she is Malta’s oldest working prostitute.
The silver-haired “anzjana tat-triq“, as she calls herself, celebrated her birthday on January 2, surrounded by prominent politicians, businessmen, lawyers and members of the clergy, all of whom were in costume to protect their identities. “I so enjoyed lapping up their warm greetings,” she beams.
Doris says she has been in the world’s oldest profession ever since she can remember. She comes from a long line of ladies of the night. “My mother was a prostitute, and her mother before her. Her mother was a cloistered nun so I’m not sure what happened there. There hasn’t been a proper male member of the family for generations.”
During her long life, the centenarian has lived through her fair share of momentous events. She has particularly fond memories of World War II. “All those marines,” she says wistfully. “Some historians say the invasion of Sicily might not have succeeded had the entire British 51st infantry division not spent a morale-boosting night with me before they shipped out.”
How has she managed to live for so long? “Well I’m lucky enough to do what I love, even though I don’t love who I do most of the time. I’ve never had a break, except for my hip of course.
“Also, a Ghanaian former witchdoctor once told me his seed had life-giving properties. It appears to have worked.”
Doris admits that due to her advanced age, the market she caters for is somewhat niche. “For men who are almost into necrophilia but not quite” say her ads on Maltapark. “Oh yes, I’m very web savvy,” she says. “One of my last clients, bless him, was a shy computer programmer, and he set up a Facebook page for me, which really helps to set up appointments since I can only cover about 30 metres of pavement in a day nowadays, and that’s with my Zimmer frame.
She says advanced age has several advantages. “Losing all my teeth has been a Godsend, I can tell you. And if someone has a foot fetish, but also likes breasts, in my case they’re in the same general area.”
Being more than a century old certainly hasn’t diminished her creativity either. “I can do more things with a tire-swing and a rolling pin than you could ever possibly imagine.”
What does she think of her younger counterparts? “Bah, in my day we used to learn everything on the job, if you’ll pardon the pun. Hookers today don’t know they’re born, with their MCAST courses and ETC training schemes.”
Despite the fact that her more glamourous days are arguably behind her, Doris has no intentions of retiring any time soon. “No matter how old I get I won’t stop bending over backwards to make sure my clients are satisfied.”
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Good evening and greetings from Edinburgh, where I am chilling out in my hotel room after a busy couple of days involving a measuring tape and my nurse's uniform ( don't ask, field report pending which promises to be a belting read ). Before I forget, I've now done my availability diary and tour dates until the end of April, some call it being anally retentive, I call it being organised. Besides, J and I are away to Ireland for a week in April, plans include a visit to a wildlife centre so I'm looking forward to that immensely.
A brief note on Whitney Houston; now I've read all the comments about how she was a junkie and therefore it was only a matter of time etc. but I must confess the only emotion I felt when I learnt she'd died was overwhelming sadness. Did she push the self destruct button ? Yep. Was she the master of her own demise ? Almost certainly. But the fact remains, long before autotune, Whitney simply blew us away with the sheer raw power of her voice. Who can forget her awesome performance at Superbowl ? For me, her demise is best summed up in this clip. In summary, there were many people around her who supported her addiction rather than any attempt at recovery and that's what makes it sad.
Anyroad, speaking of sad, you will recall that recently when I was blogging about boy cat I mentioned that I prayed and that I have a faith. Ho ho, that brought them out of the woodwork and no mistake. OK, for the hard of thinking and those down the back let me say this for once and all, NO-ONE has the right to judge me. If you truly are a Christian as you claim, then you will know, only one person has the right to judge me and it most certainly is not you, yes you, the "lady" who emails and texts me incessantly with a plea to "turn to God".
Allow me to explain this to you. I have had elongated discussions with a man I would describe as a biblical scholar and I think you'll find that nowhere in the bible is it mentioned that prostitution should be deemed morally wrong. I've said it before and I'll say it again, if I thought what I was doing was morally wrong I would desist immediately. It's not, so I won't.
I'll also ask you to remember that when Jesus went into the temple and was faced with tax collectors and courtesans, it was the bankers he threw out. Quite right too, look at the feckin' state they have the country in now.
Friday, 10 February 2012
La Princess and I are going back to The Motherland tomorrow for five days for another family "do".
This is what happens when you come from a large Irish Catholic family with 3,743 cousins who keep getting married / having babies / emigrating / going for transgender reassignment, that sort of thing.
I'll be back in glorious Glasgow on Thursday the 16th and will catch up with you when I get back. In the meantime if you'd like to book for Edinburgh do drop me an email as I have limited spaces left.
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Good evening and greetings from the coldest hotel room, EVER. I'm in Inverness and although it hasn't snowed it sure feels like it's going to, which should make travelling home a hoot. Speaking of travelling, I am delighted ( loike ) to say that I will be in Edinburgh and Brighton next month, Edinburgh is somewhere I've not frequented for a while, although I have been there on outcalls and Brighton is because I want to catch up with a very dear friend.
He and I worked together in a restaurant when I was 16 and to be blunt, I wanted to remove his Calvin Kleins with my teeth. It wasn't to be unfortunately, because late one night after staff drinks I moved in for the kill and he recoiled in surprise. After he'd finished laughing like a drain he told me he's gay. Oh. Never mind, a life long friendship was formed thereafter and I'm dying to see him. Looking back, I can't believe I didn't know he was gay, I mean he's camper than Lily Savage but I guess at 16 I was nowhere near as savvy as I thought.
This week brought tremendous excitement when my phone providers contacted me to tell me my contract was due for renewal. Without delay, I hot footed it down to their outlet and went for the iPhone4, the phone of choice for all self respecting hookers everywhere. I have a Blackberry for my work number but the iPhone is for real life and is brilliant for staying on top of emails when on the move and um ... Angry Birds.
In particular, I was dying to get my sweaty paws on the new innovative Siri, the voice activated software that allows you to send texts, emails etc. without having to key anything in, ideal for those moments when you're already 20 minutes late and haring along the M8. The Apple website is full of promise too, saying - "Just speak naturally. Siri understands what you say."
Brilliant. Except, IT FECKING DOESN'T. I mean since when does "at the vets" become "pantalettes" ? WTF are pantalettes anyway ? Exasperation isn't the word for it, and by the time I've gone back and changed all the words it hasn't understood I'd have been better off typing the whole fecking thing out by hand. ( My Brother, who reads my blog and is a devoted geek, will be absolutely aghast at that. Tough, I've given it three chances now and a final written warning. ) For those of you who simply can't comprehend why I was so irate, I invite you to view this video. ( Absolutely cracks me up every time, I love it. )
Aside from that, the past week has been absolutely awesome and I was up to my stocking tops in bookings with the very epitomy of diversity, just as I like it.
Thurs & Fri - A tremendously interesting and lovely man. We rounded off a very enjoyable session with a light chat on whether we can blame the breakdown of neurotransmitters across synapses for the psychological tendencies exhibited by serial killers. Not your usual post-coital chat I know, but very interesting nonetheless. Also, he said something which will stay with me for the rest of my studies. He's a highly accomplished man and is held in very high regard so I complimented him on his obvious intelligence. "Nothing to do with that, I just work hard. I've never been presented with a problem which I couldn't overcome, simply because I refused to give up." I found that quite inspirational actually.
Sat - An overnight with that Slave Bitch of mine. I negotiated the cobbles of the lanes in the West End once again in death defying heels and had a beautiful meal, after which we adjourned to his boudoir where I made sure that every time he sits down for the next week or so, he'll remember me. *snigger*
Sun - A trip out to Glasgow airport to see a lovely guy I have met before, who unfortunately for him, let it slip that he is in the Royal Navy. BIG mistake. This being a return booking, I insisted that he be in full uniform and he was, phwoooaaaarrr. It was almost a shame to take it all off, but hey ho, needs must. Anyhoo, he has very kindly allowed me both to take and use the above picture of his clobber, which will save me having to go rooting about on Pornhub the next time I'm having a play with my new Magic Wand, more on that later but suffice to say I may never leave the house again.