Two's company

The famous courtesan Clarimonde died recently, as the result of an orgy which lasted eight days and eight nights. It was something infernally magnificent. They revived the abominations of the feasts of Belshazzar and Cleopatra. Great God! what an age this is in which we live! The guests were served by swarthy slaves speaking an unknown tongue, who to my mind had every appearance of veritable demons; the livery of the meanest among them might have served as a gala-costume for an emperor. There have always been current some very strange stories concerning this Clarimonde, and all her lovers have come to a miserable or a violent end. It has been said that she was a ghoul, a female vampire; but I believe that she was Beelzebub in person.

Théophile Gautier
Trans. Peedeel

A Vampiric’s Lust

March 4, 2018

eyes the colour of gold
there is a story that must be told
a passionate soul that is true
could i be the one for you?
within the darkness of night there is a secret i must hide
could you be the holder of my pride?
through the paleness of life,
you will never let me bring down my knife
with you buy my side i may never die
because i make you form a gentle sigh…
you tell me i have no strife
but what is the point of immortality if you deny yourself the simple pleasures in life
the immortality i declare is not the answer so beware

Aubrey Silver

the fairy tale

February 27, 2018


The morality of fantasy and horror is, by and large, the strict morality of the fairy tale. The vampire is slain, the alien is blown out of the airlock, the Dark Lord is vanquished, and, perhaps at some loss, the good triumph – not because they are better armed but because Providence is on their side. Why does the third of the three brothers, who shares his food with the old woman in the wood, go on to become king of the country? Why does Bond manage to disarm the nuclear bomb a few seconds before it goes off rather than, as it were, a few seconds afterwards? Because a universe where that did not happen would be a dark and hostile place. Let there be goblin hordes, let there be terrible environmental threats, let there be giant mutated slugs if you really must, but let there also be hope. It may be a grim, thin hope, an Arthurian sword at sunset, but let us know that we do not live in vain.

Terry Pratchett
Let There Be Dragons

Model - Maya Delma - Photo - Islandboiphotography

She leans into me in the queer morning light for her kiss, and my mouth slackens and my head lolls back. Every day is the same, and night no different than day. Darkness, rain needling against the rooftop and windows, wind thundering through distant trees. She never sleeps. Her need keeps her running hot and constant, a nuclear reactor of hunger that can never be shut down. – It’s not so bad, my sister said, the few times I spoke with her until she stopped taking my calls. – She takes from you, but she gives you something back, in a way. It’s almost an even exchange. – What does she do, what is she, how can she be? I asked over and over again. – Is she a vampire? A ghoul? An insect? Why do we submit?

– I don’t know, my sister always replied. – Who can say?

Livia Llewellyn
The Mysteries

a vampire’s castle

November 13, 2017

1. Don’t go anywhere near a vampire’s castle, no matter how bad the weather.
2. Having gone near the castle, don’t knock at the huge forbidding door.
3. Having knocked at the huge forbidding door, don’t accept the invitation from the strange man in black clothes to go inside.
4. Having gone inside, don’t go into the guest bedroom.
5. Having gone into the guest bedroom, don’t – whatever you do – sleep with the window open.
6. Having slept with the window open, don’t come running to me to complain.

Terry Pratchett and Stephen Briggs
Nanny Ogg’s Cookbook

Darkest Demon

October 20, 2017

The Vampire is the

Most supreme demon.
The Vampire takes life
Through an invited kiss,

And feels its victim
Slip into the night,
Terrified, collapsing,
As the demon experiences bliss.

Amy Perry


October 19, 2017

Your lips bleed
like the scarlet syrup of a
dark passion fondue;
two curly lines of red
peeking from behind
your hallowed veil,
and you,
you lay them upon
my neck,
my very body you hail
as your own.
This then, is like
a red petal falling on
or a rose stained in blood
as I pull you closer to me
and together,
we drown in a pool of
crimson wine
you anoint
my lips with.
The taste of you
is like the tip of a sword
dipped in sparkling liquorice;
and our bondage becomes
the hypnotism
my tongue
slickly wrap around,
or perhaps,
the voyeur of this
eyeless world.
We’re just like
diamonds sleeping on their
velvet cushions,
or illuminating puppets
showing the way.
Love, may you claim me,
till death do us part.

Annabell Swift


Diary 19th February

My interest in history?

It was the way our teacher approached the subject back in the day, made it so much different to my other classes. I can’t remember her name now, but I can visualize her face. I was seven years old.

It was a mixed class, boys and girls, and we all sat around listening to her, still as statues as she told us about the Stone Age, Neanderthal man and the first Homo Sapiens. It fired my imagination.

I remember working flint in the garden at home and making my own (lethal) Stone Axe, using a tree branch (suitably trimmed and stripped of bark) and twine. My first attempt at ‘historic’ reconstruction.


Dildos are great and vibrators are fun,
But nothing beats the strength of my tongue!


Just because it’s a bad idea doesn’t mean it won’t be fun…


I felt your mouth on me as I slept. I forgot about your teeth…Ah, my sweet vampire!


Trump, Trump, Trump…

Poor Donald seems to be floundering, out of his depth. He plays the media, of course, and they hate it. Each day in office he creates a new controversy and the media like a pack of constipated gripe hounds hurry to the sound of “their master’s voice”.

He has, without doubt, outraged the world with his attempted immigrant ban. But he’s certainly NOT the first president to do this. Back in 1882, Chester A Arthur signed his name to the ‘Chinese Exclusion Act’ banning Chinese for a period of ten years from entry into the US.

President Franklin D Roosevelt, elected four times no less, argued Jewish refugees posed a threat to US national security. Exaggerating the fear that Nazi spies could be hiding in their number, he limited the number of German Jews who could be admitted to 26,000 annually. (Less than 25% of that number were actually admitted).

Theodore Roosevelt, that tireless advocate of war and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize (one should never underestimate Scandinavian wit), banned “Anarchists” from entry to the US along with sufferers of epilepsy, beggars and importers of prostitutes. It was the first time ‘the home of the brave and land of the free’ banned people because of their political beliefs.

And more recently, Jimmy Carter banned Iranians from entering the US. His attorney general, Benjamin Civiletti, ordered all Iranians with student visas to report to U.S. immigration within a month or face possible deportation. Almost 60,000 students were registered as requested, 430 were deported and 5,000 left voluntarily. There was no great outcry or gnashing of teeth at the time by the moral majority.

And then President Ronald Reagan, dear Ronnie, inventor of the Star Wars project and ex-FBI informer, banned HIV positive persons from arriving in the US. This law was influenced by homophobic and xenophobic sentiment towards Africans and minorities at the time. Again, the media paid little attention.

So perhaps the problem is NOT the immigration ban as such, but is more about President Trump’s ‘style’ of government? He is NOT seen as “presidential” by the media, possibly?

Perhaps they are comparing him with those rather dim presidents in the past? Rutherford B Hayes, for example. Hayes and his wife known as Lemonade Lucy were high society butterflies. Of course, his opponent in the 1876 election, Samuel Tilden, was elected president by a quarter of a million votes. But Congress and the Supreme court, showing they could act just as forcefully and illegally as any president, reversed the election and the poignantly blameless Rutherford became know thereafter as president Rutherfraud.

Or then again, perhaps it’s Trump’s wealth the media and his opponents take issue with? The US, of course, has never had a ‘poor’ president. Even George Washington was a millionaire (his fortune honestly acquired via marriage). From that day to this, holders of the presidential office simply became increasingly more wealthy – that had to be the case in order to finance their political campaigns. And the media flourishes on the hundreds of millions of dollars spent at election time for television advertising – air time that increasingly avoids anything political, while indulging in ever more disgraceful character assassination.

Or then again, perhaps it’s the way Donald backcombs his hair pisses off so many people? I don’t know. It’s a mystery. He’s not a very ‘revolutionary or original’ president; most of what he suggests has been done before – like the famous wall between US and Mexico,  a build already commenced by another, earlier president!

No. Ultimately, I see Donald Trump as one of the prosperous few making wide-ranging promises to the restless many – his personal goal, to depart on that magical ego trip of White House residency. But will he keep those promises? Are they even realistic or realisable? Only time will tell…


October 18, 2016


Without me, Transylvania will be as exciting as Bucharest…on a Monday night.

Love at First Bite (1979)
Directed by Stan Dragoti and written by Robert Kaufman


Diary 13th March

Sometimes we resemble a small pack of wolves, we’re that insatiable…
Yesterday, I was out of “salts”: hardly any sleep to speak of; prepared breakfast as usual, but couldn’t face my own…For the whole day I eat only a small bowl of cous-cous mixed with roasted veg. Drank nothing but water and one glass of apple juice. Concern from the others – Was I all right? ‘You must eat…’

Made tender love together in the evening – but, abruptly, it turned rough and selfish. We pursued and achieved climax in an orgiastic delight of thrashing flesh…
Talk of monsters…Real monsters. The rise of Adolf Hitler in Germany. Almost inevitable given the circumstances of Germany at that time. Probably one of the most hypnotic orator’s of the twentieth century. He offered boundless aims and promises, and unlike other politicians of his day, he gave social conflicts and national hopes a mystical sense of majesty and purpose.

The man did not step from a void, however: a strong belief in German racial superiority had developed during the Second Reich of Bismarck and Kaiser Wilhelm…Hitler was a logical heir to this idée fixe of the German people.

It is easy to overlook the part played by the Weimar Republic in the rise of Hitler, the terrible inflation, the tidal wave of sexual immorality…Thomas Mann’s son, Klaus described walking past a group of dominatrices in Berlin 1928:

“Some of them looked like fierce Amazons, strutting in high boots made of green, glossy leather. One of them brandished a supple cane and leered at me as I passed by. ‘Good evening, madam,’ I said. She whispered in my ear, ‘Want to be my slave? Costs only six billions and a cigarette.”

Child prostitution was commonplace in the larger cities. There were brothels specialising in the supply of girls as young as eight years old in Berlin. Mother and daughter “teams” delivered sexual services to men, as described in pornographic detail by the French journalist, Jean Galtier-Boissière. Prostitutes were everywhere on the streets. When your currency is devaluing with every passing second, when work is nowhere to be found, then a woman’s greatest asset becomes her body. Earn the cash and spend it quickly before it becomes worthless. The same applied to boys and young men, too, of course.

In his memoir, “The Europeans”, Luigi Barzini affords us a view of the sleazy side of Berlin brothel-life:

“I saw pimps offering anything to anybody: little boys, little girls, robust young men, libidinous women, animals. The story went the rounds that a male goose whose neck you cut at just the right ecstatic moment would give you the most delicious frisson of all – as it allowed you to enjoy sodomy, bestiality, homosexuality, necrophilia and sadism at one stroke. Gastronomy too, as one could eat the goose afterwards…”

It was a time when six wheelbarrows full of bank notes could barely cover the cost of a loaf of bread. A single pound sterling could purchase in excess of eight billion German marks…!
Cold night, but I slept for a few hours. Outside before dawn, the air smelled fresh and cold, frost on all the cars. The lounge retained the faintest tang of the roasted vegetables I cooked last night. A truly lovely smell, that…peppers, red onion, courgette, tomatoes and olive oil, overlaid with a hint of spices, cumin etc.
If you don’t frighten people a little bit, then what’s the point…?
Sweet Cheeses! Every night he rises from his coffin-bed silently to seek the soft flesh, the warm blood he needs to keep himself alive!