Fuck Me Till I Fart

Fuck Me Till I Fart

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Did anyone ever hear the tape of Sue Lawley asking to be f*cked until "I fart"?

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boskysquelch

Start date

Feb 6, 2009

Which was made in the Desert Island Discs studio at the BBC...I can't remember if it was Lime Grove or Bush House?
Its disgusting, she should be made to apologise to all the listeners!
I remember having a tape where Shaggy was singing about buying a deluxe toilet seat for his mother, and an autobiography of Jenny Rogers.

danny la rouge
The Jackie Weaver of anarchism

No, never heard of it. And frankly, no interest.

I remember having a tape where Shaggy was singing about buying a deluxe toilet seat for his mother, and an autobiography of Jenny Rogers.

No, never heard of it. And frankly, no interest.

that was a spoof from some shitey R1 afternoon show

It sounds highly unlikely. Ladies simply do not say such things.

'Fuck me!', yes.

'Fuck me til I fart!', no.

DotCommunist
So many particulars. So many questions.

It sounds highly unlikely. Ladies simply do not say such things.

'Fuck me!', yes.

'Fuck me til I fart!', no.

It's a reference to James Joyce's letters to his mistress isn't it?

kalidarkone
Bringing YOU round.....

It sounds highly unlikely. Ladies simply do not say such things.

'Fuck me!', yes.

'Fuck me til I fart!', no.

DotCommunist
So many particulars. So many questions.

Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
By haughty Celia spent in dressing;
The goddess from her chamber issues,
Arrayed in lace, brocades, and tissues.
Strephon, who found the room was void
And Betty otherwise employed,
Stole in and took a strict survey
Of all the litter as it lay;
Whereof, to make the matter clear,
An inventory follows here.
And first a dirty smock appeared,
Beneath the arm-pits well besmeared.
Strephon, the rogue, displayed it wide
And turned it round on every side.
On such a point few words are best,
And Strephon bids us guess the rest;
And swears how damnably the men lie
In calling Celia sweet and cleanly.
Now listen while he next produces
The various combs for various uses,
Filled up with dirt so closely fixt,
No brush could force a way betwixt.
A paste of composition rare,
Sweat, dandruff, powder, lead and hair;
A forehead cloth with oil upon't
To smooth the wrinkles on her front.
Here alum flower to stop the steams
Exhaled from sour unsavory streams;
There night-gloves made of Tripsy's hide,
Bequeath'd by Tripsy when she died,
With puppy water, beauty's help,
Distilled from Tripsy's darling whelp;
Here gallypots and vials placed,
Some filled with washes, some with paste,
Some with pomatum, paints and slops,
And ointments good for scabby chops.
Hard by a filthy basin stands,
Fouled with the scouring of her hands;
The basin takes whatever comes,
The scrapings of her teeth and gums,
A nasty compound of all hues,
For here she spits, and here she spews.
But oh! it turned poor Strephon's bowels,
When he beheld and smelt the towels,
Begummed, besmattered, and beslimed
With dirt, and sweat, and ear-wax grimed.
No object Strephon's eye escapes:
Here petticoats in frowzy heaps;
Nor be the handkerchiefs forgot
All varnished o'er with snuff and snot.
The stockings, why should I expose,
Stained with the marks of stinking toes;
Or greasy coifs and pinners reeking,
Which Celia slept at least a week in?
A pair of tweezers next he found
To pluck her brows in arches round,
Or hairs that sink the forehead low,
Or on her chin like bristles grow.
The virtues we must not let pass,
Of Celia's magnifying glass.
When frighted Strephon cast his eye on't
It shewed the visage of a giant.
A glass that can to sight disclose
The smallest worm in Celia's nose,
And faithfully direct her nail
To squeeze it out from head to tail;
(For catch it nicely by the head,
It must come out alive or dead.)
Why Strephon will you tell the rest?
And must you needs describe the chest?
That careless wench! no creature warn her
To move it out from yonder corner;
But leave it standing full in sight
For you to exercise your spite.
In vain, the workman shewed his wit
With rings and hinges counterfeit
To make it seem in this disguise
A cabinet to vulgar eyes;
For Strephon ventured to look in,
Resolved to go through thick and thin;
He lifts the lid, there needs no more:
He smelt it all the time before.
As from within Pandora's box,
When Epimetheus oped the locks,
A sudden universal crew
Of humane evils upwards flew,
He still was comforted to find
That Hope at last remained behind;
So Strephon lifting up the lid
To view what in the chest was hid,
The vapours flew from out the vent.
But Strephon cautious never meant
The bottom of the pan to grope
And foul his hands in search of Hope.
O never may such vile machine
Be once in Celia's chamber seen!
O may she better learn to keep
"Those secrets of the hoary deep"!
As mutton cutlets, prime of meat,
Which, though with art you salt and beat
As laws of cookery require
And toast them at the clearest fire,
If from adown the hopeful chops
The fat upon the cinder drops,
To stinking smoke it turns the flame
Poisoning the flesh from whence it came;
And up exhales a greasy stench
For which you curse the careless wench;
So things which must not be exprest,
When plumpt into the reeking chest,
Send up an excremental smell
To taint the parts from whence they fell,
The petticoats and gown perfume,
Which waft a stink round every room.
Thus finishing his grand survey,
Disgusted Strephon stole away
Repeating in his amorous fits,
Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!
But vengeance, Goddess never sleeping,
Soon punished Strephon for his peeping:
His foul Imagination links
Each dame he see with all her stinks;
And, if unsavory odors fly,
Conceives a lady standing by.
All women his description fits,
And both ideas jump like wits
By vicious fancy coupled fast,
And still appearing in contrast.
I pity wretched Strephon blind
To all the charms of female kind.
Should I the Queen of Love refuse
Because she rose from stinking ooze?
To him that looks behind the scene
Satira's but some pocky queen.
When Celia in her glory shows,
If Strephon would but stop his nose
(Who now so impiously blasphemes
Her ointments, daubs, and paints and creams,
Her washes, slops, and every clout
With which he makes so foul a rout),
He soon would learn to think like me
And bless his ravished sight to see
Such order from confusion sprung,
Such gaudy tulips raised from dung.
^^^I that poem.

It is louchetastic and fabulously camp.
It should be read in a drawl yet voice against a faded dusty brocade wall hanging, lit by a flickering greasy candle.

I might choose it as my Desert Island Disc reading material.
okaies...some of that has turned on some synapses...scuse I when I remember this stuff I get itchy to know...I did have it all written down...but thru a Southwark Council squat eviction, & the jealousy of a wife later on plus some trouble I had with a PI employed by Toys R Us, the evidence was destroyed at a dump near Greenwich or burnt on a farm in Cornwall...either/or.

1. The first time I heard the story was whilst shooting a Boy George video at a studio where they were also doing Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (89)...I remember trying on "the" hats & asking why the fuck they we're dredging up Indiana Jones again after seven odd years(that I remember clearly)...and being offered one in return for mending an iron for the stylist, who also coincidently dressed The Hunger. Skillage! ...and the girl dancers we had on set shot the sexy vid that Take That did early on..?

yup deffo 89.

2. Morris used my Meat Space surname in a few early sketches...notably the BBC1 late night series..was that Blue Jam?...and another TV one...but by then I'd left London(93ish) & heard it as a repeat...my son was a baby & we left him with a mate for the first time to go see Dreadzone & Fun-da-mental so around Winter 95?... and he, Morris, knew of me through work collegues of his via my marriage to a tv writer...but I met her and Morris' collegues in 91.

There we're Years between those things innit.

The Day Today was 94..Morris knew of me for deffo before then and when I heard the sketches(95ishish) I did ask his then PA/Line Producer to ask why he'd used the name...he apparently(I was told) said nothing in reply and just winked. Then laughed manically going into his office.

BUT I definately told the story to some of his, Morris', employees/actors before then tooooooooo....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND the Sound Engineer that did the original tape was doin' a BBC type I also knew(a few years later) who was doing(at the same time) one of the bloke actors that Morris also always used....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND there is some other stuff I'm starting to rememeber...but fukkit eh. meh.

DotCommunist
So many particulars. So many questions.

^^^I that poem.

It is louchetastic and fabulously camp.
It should be read in a drawl yet voice against a faded dusty brocade wall hanging, lit by a flickering greasy candle.

I might choose it as my Desert Island Disc reading material.

That is an amaaaazing poem!
Never heard of it before.
The Metaphysical.

The C21st SG version II.

"Dead Girls Don't Say NO."
Morris used 'fact me til I fart' somewhere, probably The Day Today.

Morris used 'fact me til I fart' somewhere, probably The Day Today.

dotcommunist - thank you for posting that poem.
I cant get my head around anyone thinking yet alone saying fuck me until i fart
This is a thought that will live with me for a while now. An interesting turn of phrase though; Do people ever think this?
I knew a guy who shat himself during the act but thats not even close.

8ball
New Adventures in Stupidcuntland

I thought this had been attributed to Edwina Currie during her dalliance with Major.

I cant get my head around anyone thinking yet alone saying fuck me until i fart
This is a thought that will live with me for a while now. An interesting turn of phrase though; Do people ever think this?
I knew a guy who shat himself during the act but thats not even close.

Reactions:
Pickman's model and farmerbarleymow

Interesting choice of thread to wake up after 10 years.
Sounds like something from Blue Jam in the 90s.

Which royal was it? Charles? Who was recorded saying he wanted to be someone’s tampon? (presumably Camilla)

#sexytalk

Sounds like something from Blue Jam in the 90s.

JohnC
Feb 15, 2007

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Fact Me Till I Fart? ...help

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Years back, someone told me that the phrase 'fact me till i fart' came from a real thing, where a newsreader lady told her producer/lover via her mic and earpiece to 'fuck me till i fart', not realising that the whole crew could hear. Does anyone know the whole story, and the details, like which newsreader it was and where it happened, stuff like that? Thanks.

Nope, but now you mention it the story does ring a bell. I'd never connected the two before now though, but it's more than likely it's a deliberate reference if so. Sorry I couldn't be more help.

I heard the story in connection with Sue Lawley, and I've always thought that the CM use is a reference. Private Eye seems like the place I originally got the anecdote, but I can't be sure. Here's an entirely unreliable reference.

Drop The Dead Donkey made reference to the Lawley rumour by having their newsreader character Sally Smedley involved in a similar covertly-recorded shagging session - during which she wails "Oh...oh... my big Viking warrior" or something similar. The entire news office are then issued with their own personal copies of the event on cassette and start making giggly jokes at her expense - wearing comedy viking helmets or making up fake news reports, eg one about a ferry accident ("The Viking ship has rammed the Sally Line").

Thanks everyone. But if anyone has some facts to add, feel free because I haven't quite farted yet.

Clinton Morgan

A face for radio and a voice for the silent movies

Location: Just off Camberwick Green, Trumptonshire
Logged

The story as I have been told it by my ex-boss (and also a fucking cunt) and slightly paraphrased: A production crew member got the youngest member of the team to try and seduce Sue Lawley because he wanted to but he felt that he had no chance so sex by proxy was the only option. The young lad and Sue got slightly drunk on champagne and both went upstairs to the hotel room. She unaware that the hotel room was mic-ed up and a van was outside. One thing led to another and the boys in the van heard the future presenter of Desert Island Discs moan, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me till I fart!" Other stories I heard, which usually ended up on, "And I walked straight in and caught them shagging." include: The curtain in a television studio opening up revealing a female ventriliquist (that one who has a lamb-puppet wearing eye-shadow) with her arms and legs in a star shape being penetrated against the wall by a crew member. Tommy Cooper and his assistant on the job. Cooper gave my ex-boss a bottle of booze as a thank-you to keeping mum. Kenny Everett and Lulu shagging in the studio. Chris Tarrant and Sally James shagging in ATV studios. Chris Tarrant drunk as a skunk pushing a piano into the swimming pool of the Albany Hotel in Birmingham. Taken over by the Holiday Inn. Janice Long giving blow-jobs to the production crew.

Quote from: "Clinton Morgan" Tommy Cooper and his assistant on the job. Cooper gave my ex-boss a bottle of booze as a thank-you to keeping mum. probably a bit late to give it back now i suppose...

Quote from: "WInkle" Thanks everyone. But if anyone has some facts to add, feel free because I haven't quite farted yet. Sue Lawley's BBC page has a quote that begins: Quote Lawley's consensual, almost sensual probing... Why not contact her via her agent ?

Lumiere

Location: The space betwixt air itself.
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Quote from: "Clinton Morgan" Other stories I heard, which usually ended up on, "And I walked straight in and caught them shagging." include: The curtain in a television studio opening up revealing a female ventriliquist (that one who has a lamb-puppet wearing eye-shadow) with her arms and legs in a star shape being penetrated against the wall by a crew member. Tommy Cooper and his assistant on the job. Cooper gave my ex-boss a bottle of booze as a thank-you to keeping mum. Kenny Everett and Lulu shagging in the studio. Chris Tarrant and Sally James shagging in ATV studios. Chris Tarrant drunk as a skunk pushing a piano into the swimming pool of the Albany Hotel in Birmingham. Taken over by the Holiday Inn. Janice Long giving blow-jobs to the production crew. Don't forget Daisy Donovan supposedly servicing the entire 11 O'Clock show team.

Ciarán2

Location: Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast.
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Christ, it's like the ghost of Lynda Lee Potter has come back to haunt us....

Quote from: "Ciarán" Christ, it's like the ghost of Lynda Lee Potter has come back to haunt us.... Apparently, Linda Lee Potter used to flick her bean while the Daily Mail editor spanked-off.

On the subject of Sue Lawley, it *is* the one clip on my BBC VT Christmas Tape compilation that made my jaw absolutely drop - and that of everyone who's seen it. The intro to Good King Memorex (I think? The 1979 one anyway) in which she just so casually swears. Nothing that outrageous, just the way it drops out of her mouth as if it's an every-minute occurrence. Surprising in the way it shocks.

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