Oliver’s matrimonial cow had run dry and no matter how hard he yanked at the udders no milk of joy squirted forth. In other words his wife, Ursula DeLin, had shut up shop and showed no more interest in romping and pomping in the proverbial haystack.
Oliver was left with no choice but to satisfy himself by resorting to adolescent exploits thus taking the undue risk of going blind. However, he realised soon enough that even though to fall in love with oneself was the start of a lifelong romance one could soon find oneself in the middle of a Kafkaesque plot that evoked a wretched world of loneliness, frustration and despair.
This was in no small part due to the fact that Ursula DeLin was a woman like no other. With legs longer than a railway line and hips more curvaceous than a racetrack the woman had an oomph factor that could reduce seasoned drill sergeants to drooling papooses. Wherever she walked men whistled loony rooty tooty tunes to the moon and creamed their jeans at the mere sight of her. Her firm and full bazongas swayed gently in the breeze and it was not uncommon to see rows of men kneel down at the sight of them and gnaw their fist in gibbering raw desire.
She strolled down the road and round the house with the easy air of a woman who knows she is bitch goddess, Hollywood starlet, centrefold pinup all rolled into one.
She glanced at the world around her through lazy nonchalant eyes that regarded women as furniture and men as moppets.
It was completely understandable then if poor Oliver threw self-respect to the wind and hung his dignity out to dry when he decided to grovel. He was a man who had tasted the forbidden fruit and was clawing desperately up the branches to get another bite.
Ursula considered him with a cool mixture of pity and contempt. She had lost all sexual interest in him and that was that.
Oliver then hit upon an idea and proceeded to batter it to death. He decided what he needed was a love potion – some sort of an aphrodisiac. He proceeded to acquire it with the zeal and gusto of a French revolution peasant collecting bourgeoisie heads.
He went forth into the world to further his quest.
He broke bread with voodoo witch doctors and chewed the fat with Tungusic shaman.
He bent the ears of Himalayan monks and bandied words with Hindu sages.
He prittle-prattled with witches and tittle-tattled with warlocks.
He brought back strange cordials and fanciful brews. He fed her these whimsical concoctions but they had little effect and her thighs remained resolutely crossed.
Oliver finally met a worldly-wise gentleman – one of those captains of industry who have weathered the storms of matrimony with the same acumen they show in matters commerce. He whispered into Oliver’s ear the secret of the most effective aphrodisiac – guaranteed to sway the mind and desire of the most mulish wife.
Oliver took his advice and found it effective indeed. Ursula opened up like a darling bud of May. In fact, their marriage never suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ever since Oliver handed Ursula the keys to a brand new Silver S Series Mercedes convertible.
