her thatched house, or rubbed against or wrapped 
round her wonderful clitoris.  She then steadily 
and conscientiously worked through the list thus 
obtained.  After years of severe and indefatigable 
toil she was able to announce the epoch-making 
conclusion (which philosophers had guessed with-
out ever proving by a truly scientific method) that 
there was nothing like a cock for fucking, and that 
a tongue was the best thing in the world for suck-
ing off.  Her classical researches have encouraged 
a host of other investigators to engage in similar 
tasks, and thus stimulated all that is best in mod-
ern civilization to probe the immense mysteries 
that ever ring in our puny intelligences, our be-
fogged and poxy brains.  The digression has been 
long, but I trust not without edification ;  and in 
our next chapter you may rely on our returning to 
the story of the Archbishop’s early life, and his ro-
mantic career in the Latin Quarter with S...y B.....s 
and the Frigging Photographers. 
 
 
[52]