YOU GOT ME TO THE FIVE, YOU GORGEOUS DIRTY BASTARDS

PLEASE NOTE THE CONTENT OF THIS BLOG BEFORE READING:
1. Shameless request for further sponsorship
2. Brief summary of why I'm baring my bottom
3. Poetic interlude
4. Further padding
5. My bottom

IF ANY OF THIS CONTENT IS LIKELY TO OFFEND YOU*, STOP. STOP NOW. GO AND GIVE MONEY TO KITTENS, OR THE CHURCH, OR SOMETHING.

*ADMITTEDLY, MY POEMS ARE PRETTY FUCKING AWFUL

You may be aware of the extent to which Beards have taken over my life. If, y'know, you live in this Universe, or any of the others, depending on whether you subscribe to the Many Universes Theory; though I'm pretty sure everyone is sick of looking at my arse in all of them.

SPONSOR ME HERE - GO ON:

DO IT NOW, BEFORE YOU SCROLL DOWN AND LOOK AT MY BOTTOM

Beards:
A year ago I became a Brand Ambassador for Captain Fawcett’s Gentlemen’s Grooming products.
Last July I cut the ribbon at the Wessex Beardsmen’s first annual Beard and Moustache Championships.
Within months I took the Silver trophy at the World Beard and Moustache Championships in Stuttgart. (Ladies’ category, of course - and if you follow that link, there's a lovely pic of me chatting with the World No.3)
At the start of the year I became Miss January for the Whiskerinas' 2014 charity calendar. Me. Miss January. I know.
THIS SEPTEMBER I will co-host the British Beard and Moustache Championships in Bath, UK.
I take my Bearding seriously, is what I'm saying. Bearding has been kind to me, and I love it.

The chosen charities supported by the 2014 Championships are Dorothy House Hospice Care and Depression Alliance. To mark the occasion in a PERMANENT way, and to help raise much-needed funds for these two great causes, I’m doing something drastic. This crazy project represents six hours of agonising pain for me… but with YOUR HELP, the funds raised could make a huge difference in the lives of those affected by much more real pain and suffering. Yes, I'm having a Sponsored Arse-Tattoo.  

Before I get to the details (and yes, I'm just forcing you to scroll down, really, but I like to provide culture as well as filth), here's a poem which sums up my life as it is at present, and it's dedicated on this occasion to the girls I performed with last night. They all understand. I was at Kitty Ribbons' Gloucester show, 'Cherries On A Cloud', which is possibly my favourite show to do. I love the venue, the audience, the girls, the crew... I am very blessed. Very blessed indeed. So pity our poor partners.

Artiste for a Wife

Or,

F*cking Glitter Everywhere

Everyone thinks it’s a glamorous life

Having a Burlesque artiste for a wife:

It’s a non-stop tornado of music and dance

And of course I do have a magnificent arse!

 - Not that he’d know because he never sees

I rarely get home before twenty-to-three;

He used to wait up but he don’t so much now

Since I said, ‘You want sexual intercourse? How

D’you think that conversation is going to go?

I’ll give you a clue, it ends with a NO!

How long do you think I’ve been on my feet

In six inch stilettoes? – six hours at least!

I just want to have a sit down and a cuppa

But no – your wife comes home and you want to fuck her!

Glitter all over my face and my hair

I’m covered in glitter from here down to there

I’m covered in makeup and sequins and sweat

I’m struggling to breathe! You imagine I’m getting

My freak on, the second I walk in the door?

Well, Baby, I am – I’m a Cabaret Whore!

I’m horny as fuck! You wouldn’t believe

Quite how desperate I am to have you relieve

Me, don’t wait for the bedroom, right here in the hall

Just do me while pressing me up to the wall –

It’s not just the roar of the crowd, I confess

That’s got certain areas under my dress

Behaving in ways that are certain to shock

If I may be blunt,  I’m well up for some cock –

(I’m aware the word ‘blunt’ has an obvious rhyme

Did you notice it’s not at the end of a line?

I’m not that sort of girl, I’m quite filthy but still,

I’ve not said it on stage, and I never will)

– I’ve been fondled and kissed by six women tonight

And it’s that that’s been making my thighs feel tight

But women are so much more physical than

I’d engage for, for certain, if it was a man;

And I love that the sisterhood celebrates wit,

And beauty, and curves, without being a bitch

– Leave that to Hollywood, Heat or Hello

Real women enjoy real friendship up close;

So glitter envelops our breasts and our hair

I’m covered in glitter from here down to there

Enough with the talking! Now let’s get it on!

Shut up or you’ll find that my lady-wood’s gone

Get me out of this gear by untying this lace

(Steady on, love, that just flicked in my face)

Unclasping my bodice will take a few minutes

My hair's coming down so I need to unpin it

Knickers on top and some more underneath

Yes, take them off – take them off with your teeth!

Divest me of feathers, denude me of hose

As for my shoes - I'll let you play with those

Unhand me of fans and deflower my gown

Strip me of jewels from navel to crown

Glitter in knickers and glitter in hair

I’m covered in glitter from here down to there

Everyone thinks it’s a glamorous life

Having a Burlesque artiste for a wife

No doubt about it! We strip and we tease

We’ve all sorts of delicate tricks up our sleeves

From a flirtatious glimpse to a slow stocking peel

No wonder you can’t wait to see our reveal

My welcome is warm, and it’s wet, but again

When it’s over, there’s still no escaping the trend

You find that there’s glitter all over the end –

Ooh. Chafing.

© Muriel Lavender  
February 2014


Here's the initial sketch I sent to the artist when I commissioned the work: I sort of knew what I wanted, but as the artist is none other than Brian Kesinger himself, I knew he'd understand what I was after.

As you see, I needed an expert. However, a tattoo is a permanent friend, and it has to sit perfectly where it's placed. It was essential that Brian knew his canvas, so to speak. As he is, of course, an Artist, a Professional, and a Gentleman, I felt sure he would not be excessively shocked. And do you know, as it turned out, he was too polite to even mention it.

So I sent this - which is the picture I promised I would publish when your donations to the two causes reached £500. Current count is almost £580 - so with my love, gratitude, extreme puzzlement, shock at my own temerity, and a fair dose of 'Ha Ha, Get a Load of Mu's Arse', here it is. Unfiltered, un-shopped, just with the bits concealed that you really don't need to see...

And finally - the Bard himself, 
with thanks to Brian Kesinger. I'll see you at the 

British Beard and Moustache Championships 
on September 13.

. 

PINTERFACE-TWITTAGRAM And Why I Love It. Dot Mu.

DO YOU KNOW YOU CAN FIND ME ON FACEBOOK? Of course you do. It’s probably how you ended up here.

You - yes, you! Say something

And on Twitter – you can find me there, twittering away with my chums; and now on Insta-that, too.

Oh, and of course, Pinterest, with my *famed ‘Woops, There Go My Panties’ Beard Porn Board, providing late-night entertainment for Ladies the world over, apparently (and Men. That’s implicit). Look me up, I post all sorts of pretty things. And Beards. Lots of Beards.

I have a website; it isn’t especially good, but…  

FACEBOOK  https://www.facebook.com/MurielLavenderPoetrix

WEBSITE ... you can look, if you like www.muriel-lavender.com

PINTEREST*  http://www.pinterest.com/muriellavender/

BLOG  http://muriel-lavender.blogspot.com/

TWITTER @MurielLavender          INSTAGRAM @muriellavender

… but really, this is where the fun happens.  Why not follow my blog, while you’re here?

I’M GOOD AT SOCIAL MEDIA. Insofar as there is a proper way to use it, I use it in the properest way. That is, I keep it light and sparkling¹, I interact with people all over the world, and I don’t post pictures of my fucking dinner.  Or of rainbows, either.  I know they’re nice, but for fuck’s sake, the entire world doesn’t need to join me in running outside to point at the pretty thing.

because there's never a bad time to look at my legs

Being an International Superstar (as I most certainly am, what with being the current World #2 Whiskerina, and also Pope, so there’s that) naturally I meet the most interesting people. Some of them are are so remarkable that I just fall in love with them right there. Others are plain peculiar.  Some of them don’t exist (staggeringly beautiful 19-year-old transsexual living in my hometown? No, I think I’d have met you by now *ignores friend request*); whilst others really seem to admire my shoes to an unholy degree. I’m absolutely ok with that. Some of them – most, I must say, actually, there’s no ‘some’ about it – are tremendously witty and intellectually stimulating. But then, I move in the social circles, the celebrity squares, and the Dairylea triangles of Poetry, Burlesque, Steampunk and Competitive Bearding.  Wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful.

FINALLY GETS TO THE POINT

I want to introduce you to a fellow blogger, with whom I have enjoyed many a half-hour of amusing and/or challenging conversation. Sometimes we talk about Beards, or dreams, or snow; sometimes religion or sex or politics; sometimes we just do Monty Python sketches or sing silly songs. One night we chatted about Poetry. I admit now, Dorkbeard, you worried me at that point. Anyone who says ‘I used to write poetry.’ is as wont to unleash a storm of self-pitying dribble as they are to unleash the literary equivalent of cock-shots. So I played it down a little. Ok, a very little: I replied that my poetical output was really just a series of minge jokes. But a few minutes later DB sent me a poem full of such bliss that I have, in fact, performed at it two shows now (introducing it as the work of my good friend, just as I ought) – and congratulations have poured in. The audiences loved it. And, as it is indeed itself a thoroughly good minge joke, here it is:

A woman once said that a rose is a rose is a rose

But I'm afraid that I'm inclined to disagree

For each and every flower is uniquely distinct

When properly observed upon bended knee

Some have pink petals like satin and silk

So tightly closed their inner mystery they hide

Other still appear more like sun-bleached, chewed leather

And are open enough to fall inside

Some blossoms are set within manicured gardens

Some alone or with a neat shrub upon the porch

Yet others seem lost within deep, tangled jungles

So dark one may need to bring a torch

The sweetest of blooms smell sweetly and pure

It's a pleasure to behold their bouquet

Yet there are those left alone and not tended with care

Those smell more like low tide near the bay

Dear ladies please heed these small words of advice

And tend well to the roses that you keep

For then any true gentleman will gladly bend his head low

And ensure that his appreciation runs deep

Dorkbeard

5 March 2014

Delicious. See what I mean?  My acquaintance via the internets, they set the bar pretty high. I love their company and I am grateful⁴.

Incidentally, when it comes to Facebook, I have only ever blocked about a dozen people or so, and every single one of them was either a) racist or b) unimaginative. One bright spark managed to claim the entire intersection of that particular Venn diagram for himself by referring to someone as a 'curry-eater'. You really couldn't make it up, could you?

Get to know Dorkbeard here http://dorkbeard.wordpress.com/

¹Don’t start. I’m also aware that social media is an invaluable tool for spreading knowledge, politics and global issues, unadulterated by news agencies or governmental bias. But so is telly and it doesn’t stop them broadcasting Hollyoaks² and I’m A Third-Rate Celebrity and all the other lowest-common-denominator brain-rot.  As I said, I mostly do minge jokes. If you want serious political debate, go and see Russell Brand³.

²Is that even on, anymore? I’m well out of touch with the televisual device, me.

Is this yours?

³Russell Brand. I so would. I can’t help it. 

⁴Yes, I’m also fond of those who post when they get their hands stuck in the Pringles tube, but that is for very different reasons.