So, everybody thinks that I have a Hitler Jugend fetish.
I would just like to (officially) clarify things here.
I do NOT have a Hitler Jugend fetish.
I have a Jung Pioneeren fetish.
I like to have, like, Jung Pioneeren sex role-plays. So, we, like, celebrate Ernst ‘Teddy’ Thalmann’s birthday together and stuff. I’m like, but when’s Teddy getting here? They’re like: “Jacinta. You know he’s not a real teddy, don’t you.”
Ja, ja, ich weiß schon…
And then, when they tie me up, I make them use the Pioneeren knot. I’m like: “Is that the Pioneeren knot?”
Ouch! I’m not getting out of that in a hurry, huh?
It’s OK, though, because German boys have a fetish for India so we are, like, quits. We’re the perfect mix. We’re at a party, I say I come from England. They say: “Oh, I would’ve thought Spanish or Greek or Italian or Mexican or…” I say: “Stop right there, honey. My dad is from India.”
Their eyes GLOW with longing and delight. They’re like: “India? Which part of India, exactly? Could you draw me a map? And was he a Jain Hindu? How often do you go back? Shall I make you a Yogi Tee? Also known as Chai?”
And I have this photo of my Granddad with Nehru which I carry around with me at all times because I know that, basically, any German boy I show this photo to will agree to have sex with me instantly. Any German boy – East, West, any age group, any hair colour, any time, any place and any-fucking-where.
“This is your grandfather?”
“With Nehru?”
“Can I have a copy of this?”
I always say the same thing. I say: “OK. As long as you promise to look after it.”
