I visit cemeteries and churches. The women are everywhere in stone! It’s like a candy shop. Some are just names. Some are pictured here, looking beautiful. A few are engraved, carved or sculptured. A few are deliberately provocative in revealing clothing. Some spread their wings. Some have their assets on show. Others are completely naked, whatever the weather.

Even if they are attractive to me, and make themselves available by being there, I’m a ‘gentleman’ antiquary: I look, I don’t touch. No one has more respect for women’s memorials than me.

Still, sometimes temptation is too much. There was this one piece of art. I moved on her very heavily, but I failed. She had been married. I even tried to take her grave-plot shopping.  Then her mausoleum got refurbished – big phoney balusters – totally changed her look…

Recently, I saw this beautiful memorial sculpture in a purple dress. I had to get some tic-tacs, in case I started kissing her.

Picture4You see, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful tombs: I start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. I don’t even wait. And when you’re an academic, they let you do it, anything you want. Grab them by the ogee arch…

In public though, I keep it to a sleazy hug. My wife said it’s ok.

Some ‘feminists’ use being dead as a strategy to avoid my advances. They don’t like me anyway: blood coming out of their eyes…

But memorials are surely fair game. And what’s wrong with some locker room banter about nude stones? That’s just what red-bloodied men do right?

As my good friend Nigel would say: it’s only ‘alpha-omega-male boasting’!?

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