I
iclaudipuss
Guest Shopper
Our adored couple spent time travelling the world, they journeyed on the Orient Express, though the waiting between stations was murder:
They saw wonderful sights together, including the Aurora Borealis, which was unusual in Rochdale:
but then, during a rainy afternoon in Paris
our hero spotted a young lady selling newspapers
and he was horrified when he saw the headlines: My Affair With Mr QVC - Minxie Von Pussyflaps Tells All!
"There may be trouble ahead..." he told his wife, and on seeing the newspaper she nodded in sympathy, just before she delivered a swift knee to his groin.
The days ahead were gloomy, and everything in our protagonist's world seemed out of kilter:
Had he thrown away his marriage just to experience 3 of the best 4 minutes of his life? He began taking solitary walks through the night, alone with his thoughts and the troubles besetting him from all sides.
It seemed unfair that as well as having to deal with Minxie's revelations, he was also being bombarded with letters of complaint from QVC customers, demanding their money back after buying the latest panties in the Breezies range. It seemed that several ladies had suffered embarrassing scenes whilst wearing them:
Not only that but Thomas Kinkade had decided on a radical departure for the subject of his forthcoming TSV; instead of one of his usual cosy hometown pictures, he had decided to paint a nude lady, one not even wearing a vest...
Our noble, but flawed, hero returned home and paced the floor endlessly. Not even the new Northern Nights 65000 thread count sheets could persuade him to rest his weary noggin:
He just wanted to go back to his carefree teens:
He went to the piano and played a maudlin tune, regretting with all his being that he had swapped his stylophone for this unplayable Steinway:
"Darling, can you ever forgive me?" he asked his long suffering wife. "No," she answered candidly, "but perhaps in time the urge to bat you over the head with a shovel will pass."
Our brave QVCer realised he had been toyed with by that vindictive Minxie, and he was so disturbed by his thoughts that he often felt he was in a film by Hitchcock:
He fretted and brooded, and tried to show interest in the latest Kim & Co collection, which contained the usual on-trend and up to date numbers in a tasteful nylon/polyester mix:
but how could he concentrate when it seemed that everyday the Von Pussyflaps woman was appearing in the papers with some new revelation designed to embarrass and humiliate him? Why only yesterday she'd been featured in the tabloids laughing about his thrift. Although he had lavished her with gifts, they were all from QVC, and he frequently made her return them under the 30 day MBG:
It was clear that Minxie was becoming a media darling, and before long she was turning up in the more upmarket publications. She posed for a spread in the popular magazine Whelks Weekly:
She appeared in Vogue:
She posed onstage in her guise as a showgirl for Milady's Boudoir:
The woman had no shame as she proved when she went so far as to expose her pussy to the media:
Just when it seemed that things couldn't get any worse, other women with whom he had dallied and had brief liaisons began to talk to the press. Firstly, Scheherzade Nippleclamp:
then that wretched Cleo Bumpjiggle:
Yes, they were all coming out of the woodwork to taunt him now
It was clear he was being set up for the kill:
so he attempted to buy his way out with an offer of money to the women in question, but they laughed at him and told the press that he had wished to give the money in 3 easy payments:
Paranoia set in, and his wife was unsympathetic, she simply told him that the problem was due to his having had too much sex in the city:
She dealt with her heartache by taking up synchronized swimming:
which made her lungs so powerful that she was able to fulfil a lifetime ambition and join the Morecambe Opera Society as Third Soprano. What a success she had in Madame Butterfly:
Mr QVC's mental torment intensified, he felt positively persecuted, and he couldn't even go out for a quiet drink unless he was heavily disguised:
Everywhere he looked he saw strange goings-on:
"Something tells me I'm not in Kansas anymore", he said to himself, but since he had never been there anyway, this was perhaps just a further example of his disturbed emotions:
His wife's Charlie Bears took on a new meaning and, indeed, a new life for him:
He barely got to see his wife these days - when she wasn't swimming or warbling, she was joining in the activities of the Oldham Coven of Witches:
and one time she even served him Eye of Newt Flambe for dinner. She was also mixing with new, sophisticated friends, like that awfully catty woman she invited to the house several times:
She openly flaunted her new adviser, some international man of mystery:
So nervous did Mr Q become at the unravelling of his life that he bought a gun and practised shooting at targets everyday:
Since he was allergic to dogs, he bought a guard polar bear, the adorable and decidedly vicious TinyPolo:
He had already briefed the family cat, Cashmasoft, that she shouldn't speak to the press should they approach her on her way into town to pick up her catalogue from Catalan, along with this month's issue of Catmopolitan:
But it wasn't until a passing Yorkshire Terrier, who happened to be able to speak, mentioned that our hero should consult the almost legendary Private Investigator, Muscles O'Malley, that things began to change for Mr Q:
The very next day Muscles O'Malley was hired to find the dirt on these cunning, scheming women who were making Mr Q's life an absolute misery. O'Malley somehow inspired confidence. The curtains in his office were drawn but the rest of the furniture was real. He spoke with knowledge of 'dames' and said that soon Mr & Mrs QVC's life together would be restored to what it had been before. "Persilly speaking," he said, "I'm too Bold for these villains, if you get my Dreft. I do this job to Tide me over and Daz the truth. I'm Omo'd sure I can solve this case, it's a matter of Ariel today and Calgon tomorrow." With that he pulled a ferret out of his truss and launched into a verse of Save All Your Kisses For Me. Thank goodness, here was a man of reason who could be trusted implicitly. What had seemed a hopeless case now seemed so simple; it was the classic story of greed and passion and an article in Titbits.
Muscles spied on the blackmailing vixens wherever they went:
He cunningly disguised himself as a cigarette girl in order to eavesdrop on our villainous ladies in the low dives they frequented:
He disguised himself as Mystic Meg and chuckled inwardly when they told him all about their dark plans, all the while thinking they were having their fortunes told by a 7th daughter of a 7th daughter of a Gypsy's next door snail charmer:
In his most brilliant use of subterfuge he dressed as an elephant and followed the women discreetly, and from a distance:
In less than a week he had the case solved. These wicked women had been working all the while for the CEO of Ideal World, who wished to take over the QVC empire and sell his TomToms and Scarflaces, not to mention his 13 in 1 ladders, Karchers and Fleaflaps to a much wider audience than the 23 he was currently broadcasting to. What a diabolical scheme! Is nothing sacred in the cut-throat world of teleshopping? Yes, it had been another game of cat and mouse for our hero, but he managed to prevail, and that's not easy for a man with a descending clavicle.
Before Mr Q could tell his wife the news and get back to his normal, happy-go-lucky self, he had to deal with a letter he had received from Julia Roberts. Julia told him that although she was still happy in her new job in another area of retail:
she felt her chances of promotion were being hindered due to the poor results she was achieving using her QVC epilator:
Julia was quite belligerent and mentioned the numbah of years she had been at the forefront of QVC, and stated that in no way whatevah would she return to her old position there unless the money she had paid for the epilator was refunded, despite the fact that the item was 3 years past its 30 day MBG. Our hero agreed to her demands and Julia's next letter was much more convivial. She said that she was keeping up with her Pilates:
and was, as a consequence, still a size Small:
She felt that this would increase sales exponentially in regard to the forthcoming Slim 'n' Lift TSV:
Lastly, she mentioned that her autobiography, A Tale Of Two Titties was almost ready to go to the publishers, and she showed him the picture she was hoping to have on the cover:
And so our adored QVC family was coming together again, and our favourite couple had made it through another crisis with their wits and sanity, not to mention their love, more or less intact. Once more their sorely tried romance blossomed, and they were able to wander off into the sunset together blissfully happy in each other's arms:
Well, after all that drama, I think we need one of these:
Once again this has been a "For You" production brought to you from the most secure room in that rest home for the terminally bewildered, Shady Pines.
That's all folks...
for now...
They saw wonderful sights together, including the Aurora Borealis, which was unusual in Rochdale:
but then, during a rainy afternoon in Paris
our hero spotted a young lady selling newspapers
and he was horrified when he saw the headlines: My Affair With Mr QVC - Minxie Von Pussyflaps Tells All!
"There may be trouble ahead..." he told his wife, and on seeing the newspaper she nodded in sympathy, just before she delivered a swift knee to his groin.
The days ahead were gloomy, and everything in our protagonist's world seemed out of kilter:
Had he thrown away his marriage just to experience 3 of the best 4 minutes of his life? He began taking solitary walks through the night, alone with his thoughts and the troubles besetting him from all sides.
It seemed unfair that as well as having to deal with Minxie's revelations, he was also being bombarded with letters of complaint from QVC customers, demanding their money back after buying the latest panties in the Breezies range. It seemed that several ladies had suffered embarrassing scenes whilst wearing them:
Not only that but Thomas Kinkade had decided on a radical departure for the subject of his forthcoming TSV; instead of one of his usual cosy hometown pictures, he had decided to paint a nude lady, one not even wearing a vest...
Our noble, but flawed, hero returned home and paced the floor endlessly. Not even the new Northern Nights 65000 thread count sheets could persuade him to rest his weary noggin:
He just wanted to go back to his carefree teens:
He went to the piano and played a maudlin tune, regretting with all his being that he had swapped his stylophone for this unplayable Steinway:
"Darling, can you ever forgive me?" he asked his long suffering wife. "No," she answered candidly, "but perhaps in time the urge to bat you over the head with a shovel will pass."
Our brave QVCer realised he had been toyed with by that vindictive Minxie, and he was so disturbed by his thoughts that he often felt he was in a film by Hitchcock:
He fretted and brooded, and tried to show interest in the latest Kim & Co collection, which contained the usual on-trend and up to date numbers in a tasteful nylon/polyester mix:
but how could he concentrate when it seemed that everyday the Von Pussyflaps woman was appearing in the papers with some new revelation designed to embarrass and humiliate him? Why only yesterday she'd been featured in the tabloids laughing about his thrift. Although he had lavished her with gifts, they were all from QVC, and he frequently made her return them under the 30 day MBG:
It was clear that Minxie was becoming a media darling, and before long she was turning up in the more upmarket publications. She posed for a spread in the popular magazine Whelks Weekly:
She appeared in Vogue:
She posed onstage in her guise as a showgirl for Milady's Boudoir:
The woman had no shame as she proved when she went so far as to expose her pussy to the media:
Just when it seemed that things couldn't get any worse, other women with whom he had dallied and had brief liaisons began to talk to the press. Firstly, Scheherzade Nippleclamp:
then that wretched Cleo Bumpjiggle:
Yes, they were all coming out of the woodwork to taunt him now
It was clear he was being set up for the kill:
so he attempted to buy his way out with an offer of money to the women in question, but they laughed at him and told the press that he had wished to give the money in 3 easy payments:
Paranoia set in, and his wife was unsympathetic, she simply told him that the problem was due to his having had too much sex in the city:
She dealt with her heartache by taking up synchronized swimming:
which made her lungs so powerful that she was able to fulfil a lifetime ambition and join the Morecambe Opera Society as Third Soprano. What a success she had in Madame Butterfly:
Mr QVC's mental torment intensified, he felt positively persecuted, and he couldn't even go out for a quiet drink unless he was heavily disguised:
Everywhere he looked he saw strange goings-on:
"Something tells me I'm not in Kansas anymore", he said to himself, but since he had never been there anyway, this was perhaps just a further example of his disturbed emotions:
His wife's Charlie Bears took on a new meaning and, indeed, a new life for him:
He barely got to see his wife these days - when she wasn't swimming or warbling, she was joining in the activities of the Oldham Coven of Witches:
and one time she even served him Eye of Newt Flambe for dinner. She was also mixing with new, sophisticated friends, like that awfully catty woman she invited to the house several times:
She openly flaunted her new adviser, some international man of mystery:
So nervous did Mr Q become at the unravelling of his life that he bought a gun and practised shooting at targets everyday:
Since he was allergic to dogs, he bought a guard polar bear, the adorable and decidedly vicious TinyPolo:
He had already briefed the family cat, Cashmasoft, that she shouldn't speak to the press should they approach her on her way into town to pick up her catalogue from Catalan, along with this month's issue of Catmopolitan:
But it wasn't until a passing Yorkshire Terrier, who happened to be able to speak, mentioned that our hero should consult the almost legendary Private Investigator, Muscles O'Malley, that things began to change for Mr Q:
The very next day Muscles O'Malley was hired to find the dirt on these cunning, scheming women who were making Mr Q's life an absolute misery. O'Malley somehow inspired confidence. The curtains in his office were drawn but the rest of the furniture was real. He spoke with knowledge of 'dames' and said that soon Mr & Mrs QVC's life together would be restored to what it had been before. "Persilly speaking," he said, "I'm too Bold for these villains, if you get my Dreft. I do this job to Tide me over and Daz the truth. I'm Omo'd sure I can solve this case, it's a matter of Ariel today and Calgon tomorrow." With that he pulled a ferret out of his truss and launched into a verse of Save All Your Kisses For Me. Thank goodness, here was a man of reason who could be trusted implicitly. What had seemed a hopeless case now seemed so simple; it was the classic story of greed and passion and an article in Titbits.
Muscles spied on the blackmailing vixens wherever they went:
He cunningly disguised himself as a cigarette girl in order to eavesdrop on our villainous ladies in the low dives they frequented:
He disguised himself as Mystic Meg and chuckled inwardly when they told him all about their dark plans, all the while thinking they were having their fortunes told by a 7th daughter of a 7th daughter of a Gypsy's next door snail charmer:
In his most brilliant use of subterfuge he dressed as an elephant and followed the women discreetly, and from a distance:
In less than a week he had the case solved. These wicked women had been working all the while for the CEO of Ideal World, who wished to take over the QVC empire and sell his TomToms and Scarflaces, not to mention his 13 in 1 ladders, Karchers and Fleaflaps to a much wider audience than the 23 he was currently broadcasting to. What a diabolical scheme! Is nothing sacred in the cut-throat world of teleshopping? Yes, it had been another game of cat and mouse for our hero, but he managed to prevail, and that's not easy for a man with a descending clavicle.
Before Mr Q could tell his wife the news and get back to his normal, happy-go-lucky self, he had to deal with a letter he had received from Julia Roberts. Julia told him that although she was still happy in her new job in another area of retail:
she felt her chances of promotion were being hindered due to the poor results she was achieving using her QVC epilator:
Julia was quite belligerent and mentioned the numbah of years she had been at the forefront of QVC, and stated that in no way whatevah would she return to her old position there unless the money she had paid for the epilator was refunded, despite the fact that the item was 3 years past its 30 day MBG. Our hero agreed to her demands and Julia's next letter was much more convivial. She said that she was keeping up with her Pilates:
and was, as a consequence, still a size Small:
She felt that this would increase sales exponentially in regard to the forthcoming Slim 'n' Lift TSV:
Lastly, she mentioned that her autobiography, A Tale Of Two Titties was almost ready to go to the publishers, and she showed him the picture she was hoping to have on the cover:
And so our adored QVC family was coming together again, and our favourite couple had made it through another crisis with their wits and sanity, not to mention their love, more or less intact. Once more their sorely tried romance blossomed, and they were able to wander off into the sunset together blissfully happy in each other's arms:
Well, after all that drama, I think we need one of these:
Once again this has been a "For You" production brought to you from the most secure room in that rest home for the terminally bewildered, Shady Pines.
That's all folks...
for now...
