The Power of the Winkie

My lovely friend Tot T says the only reason people visit my blog is for the copious quantities of cock displayed here.

"People just scroll through the trains and films and architecture and crap, to get to the next cache of cock", he tells me.

So, in a spirit of trying to be helpful, let's have an orgy of tiny winkies...

Most of these first few images seem to involve other people interacting with tiny winkies.

Sometimes in ways that I struggle to find erotic:

But then we get to a good old wrestling bout, and my spirits are restored:

Even this next image, where there is no visible winkie, stirs my spirits:

Although not quite as much as seeing the winkie revealed:

Let's end here, with a delightfully surreal image where one's eyes, despite the strangeness, are inexorably dragged-back to the jolly wee pricklet of the naked man:

Such is the awesome power of the mighty tiny winkie.

Pretty cool, huh?

Norfolk sojourn

I had a delightful, if somewhat overcast, looong weekend in Norfolk, thanks very much for asking, though the heavy clouds made the light seem very thin and flat for the photography:

But the magnificence of that Classical pile can counter any flatness or dullness of light, as can the sheer romance of this next pile of old rocks:

Lots more of that some other time: so far it's taken more than twenty hours to upload my photos to flickr (not the fastest site on the planet, by any means) and I've still not finished.

This post is by way of a placemarker, to let you know I haven't forgotten you. And it's also to prepare you for some of the architectural and photographic treats that I have in store:

Including this delightful church, the central tower of which is about one thousand years old:

And historic places like this -- the stairs up which climbed Queen Isabella as she entered a life of banishment, having conspired to murder her husband, the queer King Edward II:

It wasn't all buildings -- there were a few rather lovely Norfolk landscapes, too, as the grain crops grow towards maturity:

That was a view squeezed through a hedge, whereas this line of trees is quite beautiful:

And this gives a rather nice taste for the sheer scale of Norfolk's vast skies:

You see, that doesn't look at all boring, does it? Well worth looking forward to.

Now, where's all the cock?

Orf they jolly well go

I'm going away for a few days, so thought I'd leave you with this rather striking image of what appear to be Scotch men on holiday:

I am not at all taken with the strange "landing strip" of pubic hair left by that middle chap after his manscaping, although I do admire all of their winkies.

I have packed lots of condoms (I won't be needing any of them, but it's a fantasy game I play with myself) although not, alas, either of the two studs featuring above or below.

So that's it: I'm now ready for the long march to King's Cross, to speed me northwards and eastwards to the wild, plashy Fens of Norfolk.

Alas, I'm not expecting to encounter any of these fine chaps, either.

Hope you have fun without me. I should be back by Tuesday at the latest. Pip pip.

Missing person

I've posted several images of this chap before -- including this one:

But now I've found a couple more, completely unpublished (by me):

 Have I explained how much I am in love with him...?

More sightings would be most welcome. As would, of course, an email address. Thank you very much.

Princely

My favourite pornographer has been hard at work, this time producing images of a skinny-looking guy.

Some of these images have an air of mystery about them that reminds me of Renaissance portraits of princes -- in this next photo, just what is the meaning of the tattoo, or the symbolism of the ball?

Soon such thoughts are left behind, as we contemplate the delicate hanging swing of his pudendous genitalia:

And then this, the finale, one of the most dramatic porno photos I think I've ever seen:

Utterly masterful in the way it (and we) worships the male form, all potent sex and musculature combined with vulnerable yearning winkie. Magnificent.

Full Frontal

Only a few short years ago, the only ways to find out about male full-frontal nudity in the cinema were either to sit through every film ever released or to buy a grubby, 1996 paperback book.

In Full-Frontal Steve Stewart had compiled a list of a hundred or so movies (some of which were, er, "specialist" rather than mainstream), illustrated by a dozen or so blurry, grainy images. The second edition was produced in 1998, but without the images (they had fallen foul of copyright claims by actors anxious to suppress pictures of their winkies).

All that has changed.

I use actor Zachary Knighton only by way of illustration: here, captured for eternity (yeah, right), are stills from his full-frontal appearance in La Vie Figurelle, an obscure 2002 movie.

I think it's rather nice that Zach's penis has been preserved for posterity, and that we can all so easily access images of it.

A paperback today would run to thousands of titles rather than a few dozen, and this trend is, I think, to be thoroughly applauded. Although I remain grateful to that publishing pioneer.

Going Dutch

A bit of cinema history yesterday with a viewing of 1943's The Silver Fleet. In many ways it is just another Second World War propaganda film, showing us how evil the Nazis were and how it was the duty of all upstanding citizens to fight for their country.

Set in a Dutch ship-yard in newly-occupied Holland, it stars Ralph Richardson as the yard owner: a man who all his fellow-countrymen think is a complete Quisling but who is earning the trust of the Nazis in order to complete a heroic act of resistance. The first part of the film, at least, was inspired by a true story: a German U-boat was hijacked by a Dutch crew and gifted to the English navy. The film was seen as an opportunity to refuel patriotism in the face of a seemingly interminable war and almost unbearable civilian hardship.

In cinema history it's best known for being the first film produced by Powell & Pressberger in their now-famous production company The Archers; P&P have a strong claim to being the strongest film-makers that Britain has produced. As an interesting aside, one of the leading cast members (Esmond Knight, who plays the most egregiously evil Nazi) was completely blind as a result of war service, but this fact is not obvious at all during the film.

More interestingly from my perspective, the film's principal location shoots were in my evil home town of King's Lynn, whose vaguely Dutchiform architecture is reminiscent of The Netherlands. It's rather a sobering sight to see the Trinity Guildhall turned into Nazi Headquarters.

Local folklore, incidentally, is that the Dutch architectural influence was as a result of the mass influx of Dutch engineers in the early seventeenth century, to drain the marshy Fenlands and realign the main rivers in these here parts. Dutch gables and facades appear in abundance, but some modern critics doubt there is any connection. Still, it works for the film.

One off

I think one of the most successful functions of the internet is in giving exhibitionists a global forum to indulge their passions (and, similarly, for us voyeurs):

This chap also took the photographs of himself so he is able to expose two of his passions simultaneously. Lucky fellow.

The mighty boosh

Variations on a theme by a talented photographer (not, alas, me):

I rather like these. The model is natural rather than looking too pumped and artificial, and the collaging is a nice touch:

That diptych contrasts with the boldness of this sharply cropped image:

Then it's back to gentler stuff...

Before the final triumphant explosion, with a quartet of images:

I love the sense of movement and flow. That and the mighty bollocks, obviously.

Syon

In eighteenth century Britain architecture seemed to take a turn to the dramatically (if that's not the wrong word) austere:

Syon Park, nestled in several hundred prime acres on the banks of the River Thames, is a glorious example of the type.

From the outside it's almost childishly simple -- even the dimmest child would recognise it as a castle:

Like much of the work of the Adam brothers it exudes strength and solidity, but it also reeks of power (this being the London seat of the Dukes of Northumberland, Earls of Essex):

Syon Park is an immensely masculine piece of architecture -- look at how massively built the porte cochère is:

And when you finally make it up to the front door (which wouldn't disgrace some major national public institution), you are aware of the enormous volume of space that sits on the other side...

In fact, on the opposite side of the hall you can see an open door into a central courtyard, which turns out to be this delightful space:

Alas, back inside the house there is a complete ban on any photography whatsoever, including mobile phones. Bastards. The warders are hypersensitive (possibly because I set off an alarm by leaning too far over a rope barrier, to see behind a door) so you get no photos of the interior other than this delicious portrait of the 3rd Duke of Northumberland, tucked away in some ratty old nursery corridor miles from anywhere:

No, photography at Syon has to resume in the gardens. But they are rather impressive:

Genius landscape designer "Capability" Brown laid them out, though modern hands have also added to them:

Even when the clouds made everything overcast to give the impression of a typical English summer's day, there was interest and movement and life:

And when the sun broke through...

Being an eighteenth century palace, the grounds (like the house) are stuffed full of sculpture:

Some of it extraordinarily monumental in character:

And there's a soaring greenhouse tucked away, which apparently was used in at least some respects as an inspiration for the Crystal Palace building:

There is a huge area of marshy meadows which is flooded twice a day by the inrushing tide from the Thames -- the last sanctuary of salt meadow left anywhere around these parts:

But it's the great house that's the thing. Extraordinary.

One of this summer's photography expeditionary themes will be Great Houses What I Have Not Previously Visited. I'm hoping to bag at least Highclere and Tyntesfield before the summer's over.