Sometimes, while having a laugh, we try to give other people something to laugh about and, in doing so, if we can make a bit of money for Charity, then it’s a triple win. For several years, I was asked to be the M.C. and Auctioneer at the Hong Kong Cricket Club, presenting their charity event for Dreamflight, a cause set up to fly kids with terminal illness, family members and even nursing staff, to Disneyland. All the hard work was done by a team of Ladies who put the whole thing together, my job was simply to front up, consume alcohol and auction stuff that individuals and companies had donated. If I could get people to laugh while opening their wallets, a few extra dollars might fall out. I loved it, perhaps a little too much. Dori could always tell when the Auction was reaching climax because, with the end in sight, my adrenalin levels would begin to taper off and an entire nights’ worth of booze would kick in and I would morph from a witty, erudite, cheeky chappy to a slobbering wreck, in seconds.

Over a couple of years, I began to get a drift of what people particularly liked in an auction and one of the top earners was always some sort of collectible pottery figurine. In one particular year, we had none donated so, at great expense, I bought one myself and placed it in a black velvet bag with red silk tie. At the culmination of the evening, with interest fading, I announced a surprising, late addition. As follows;

“Ladies and Gentlemen! We have tonight a surprising late addition to the auction items that you will not find on your list. This is a rare opportunity and we are extremely endebted to Lladro for providing this at such short notice. What you are about to see is a piece that has been specifically crafted for the Hong Kong market and is being treated as a tester, to gauge the commercial interest that such a piece might create, should the manufacturer decide to take it into production. Therefore, this piece is currently unique and, in order to protect the intellectual property rights of the design, the manfacturer has requested that it be sold sight unseen, to avoid the possibility of any photographs from this sale making their way into the Public Domain. I am however, authorised to describe the piece to you.

This piece is the first of a proposed series dealing with traditional life in Hong Kong as experienced in the rural communities. The scene takes place on a ramshackle granite stair descending from the village houses to the rice paddie. An elderly Hakka woman in black, raw silk pyjamas, with a wide brimmed straw hat and black lace veil is standing on the stair holding a wooden pail.”

By this time a good number of the women in the audience had glazed over and were drooling, whilst reaching for their purses. This had potential. I continued;

“In the foreground are two village dogs, unfortunately locked in a post coital back-to-back tie and the elderly lady is about to chuck the ice cold well water in order to separate them. — What am I bid Ladies and Gentlemen for this unique, golden opportunity to possess this timeless classic?!!” And with that, I gave a flourish which succeeded in knocking the bag off the pedestal, from whence it crashed upon the stone floor.

The last part of the dialogue had left the party somewhat confused. Had I really referred to two dogs locked together while shagging? Had I really broken a one and only piece? Eyes and mouths gaping, hands and purses raised in the air, the scene was frozen. I raised the bag from the floor, shook it gingerly, took the microphone and announced; ” Ladies and Gentlemen! What am I bid for this unique, Lladro created, 3 dimensional jig-saw puzzle?!!” There was general pandemonium, several items were thrown at me because, by this time, everybody realised I had been taking the piss and some of the Ladies were genuinely distressed, but I still managed to flog the shattered remains of a cheap feng shui cat with a waving paw for a couple of grand, for a good cause.

At the same event, Dori bought a meal for 10 sponsored by the same Cricket Club and after a series of negotiations, parleyed it into a wedding anniversary party for which we provided our own entertainment. This entertainment was deemed to be so special that it then formed the basis of another night in aid of the same charity. The night itself being billed as a celebration of the Club Aerobics programme which, at that time, was probably the strongest in Hong Kong. This was advertised as a major dance party with a guest appearance from an International Aerobics display team, of men. Many husbands were dragged along by wives getting moist at the thought of a team of blokes in stretch Lycra doing the “Grapevine”. If they believed that, then they were going to be disappointed, but I don’t think many were.

The team itself was formed of 5 blokes, mostly husbands of aerobics girls, with sizes covering the full gamut available and all well past their sell-by date. They were; Mike, beaky tin-ribs, Secretary of a major Bank; Erik, lanky streak, Highways Engineer; Chris, small, fit, the only one to actually perform aerobics; John, portly, somewhat un-coordinated, Senior Inspector in the ICAC (Supercops); and me. We practised for minutes to a compilation track of semi-pornographic music by Barry White, Tom Jones and Rod Stewart. Some of the moves were genuine aerobics and some were just plain rude, the music and choreography having been produced and directed by my wife Dori. We wore less than glamorous outfits and each was emblazoned on the back with a large capital letter that, when aligned spelled out the name of our group.

On the big night, the room was abuzz with anticipation. A hundred women and their rather subdued partners were in the room, with the women crowded towards the floor and the men towards the bar. The D.J. had the music thumping as we shuffled on stage and the lights dimmed. I took the microphone and began the following monologue, (Which you can skip if you find ‘Carry On’ smut in an East European accent to be tedious).

Gut eevenink unt vilkommen, mein Dammen unt Herren, Laties unt Gennermen. Aun behof auf die Societie, fir Progressenschaft, auf  Ehrobiker, der Reichshturmfuerer,  zum Masculinenengemeltschaft, I em pleasink to vilkommen you to dis eefeninks entertainment, unt our comink beck to Honk Konk at der request auf der fabulous, der Foxy, der Fraulein auf Fitness, Mees Dori von Dainton. Mees Dori hess been puttink our members srew der paces unt although vee ver a leetle stiff, unt den a leetle sore, ve are now proud unt erect again ant full auf der shpunk vonce more, ready fir your pleasure.

Please gif a big hand to our members;

Comrade Mikhail Scalesnavich

Ubershturmfeurer Kristoph Grossdoppelgreener

Myself your humble serfant Johann Daininavich

Kommandant Erik von Glenschausen

Unt last, unt least,  Commisar Johann Vright, known affectionently to zer laties as “Schmeg”

Our members are heffink very fondle mammaries auf our last trip to Honk Konk unt vee are hoping dat ve can touch upon zum auf dose mammaries tonight. I am sure that our members vill shpurt forth mit delight eef you touch upon these mammaries after der show. All except fir Schmeg. As Ju can zee, Schmeg ejaculated his pleasure in der dressing room unt ees now a little shpent.

How effer, Laties unt Gennermen, I em sure dot mit a leetle shtrokink , Schmeg can rise to der occasion vonce more. Unt zo, mit out furder adudes, meiner Dammen unt Herren, Laties unt Gennermen, please be schlappink your hents together fir,……… die Societie! …….fir Progressenschaft !…….auf  Ehrobiker! ….….der  Reichshturmfuerer!… zum  Masculinenengemeltschaft!

If you managed to wade through the above, you may have realised that as each member turned away from the audience and shed their dressing gown a word was being spelled out by the letters on their shirts. As the last gown fell, there was a moments silence, until a lone female voice cried out…. “It spells SPERM!!!”

The music and the crowd erupted. We could hardly hear the music for the screams as we gyrated and thrust our way through the set. Were they screams of pain, pleasure or hysteria? We had no way of knowing. We were totally focused on the routine, except of course for Schmeg, who was always, magically, half a beat behind the rest of us. By now the dance floor was carpeted with knickers and roses and the music rounded to the finale. “Do you think I’m sexy?” we sashayed towards the audience. “If you want my body” we sashayed away and as we did, the lights dimmed, the audience gasped…. and we started to slip our shorts off…

I had bought 5 pairs of flesh coloured panties from a Ladies shop and to these had sown enormous genitalia made from foam and hairy black wool. Scrunched up inside our shorts, they were just a sexy little bulge but, once fluffed,  they were prodigious members and had to be tucked up our shirts. As the lights faded, we turned to the audience, the music climaxed, we lifted our shirts and the dobbers swayed into view. Lights out!

This was one of the few times in my life when I really thought the roof might come off. The noise was horrendous. We had to leg it in the dark and barricade ourselves in the Men’s Changing Rooms. It took 15 minutes and most of the Club staff to restore order. I thought they were going to have to bring the hoses out. It was a fabulous success.

All power to the SPERM Boys.

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