shhexycorin's Photos

I'm off to the beach for a week, to ogle at boys and drink my liver under the table. So I thought I'd take the chance to say hello to the people who look at my stuff and never comment... I know you're out there! Drop me a line or leave a comment... Or send me cash. Or puppies. Or a house in the south of France, I ain't fussy. Love you long time and I'll see you soon! Kisses, Corin

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My favourite tractor had his birthday today, so I hopped onto the Shhexy Jet to go and celebrate with him. We started with four gallons of the finest mojitos known to man, had a delicious Dormouse fondue for dinner and then went on to a couple of discreet clubs for some hardcore whore action. I think I may have given Ice Nine a little too much Rohypnol, because once we left the first brothel, he completely flipped out and started do some bizarre farm-machinery moonwalk. He looked fucking shhexy, obviously, but got some funny looks from passersby, especially when he ran over a couple of kids trying to get a look at his threshing attachment. That man doesn't know his power, really. It was a great night though, we partied until long after the sun came up and queued outisde the nearby church so we could get in for Dawn Mass and confess our very many recent sins. I didn't tell the priest everything though. In some regards, my lips are sealed...

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If you've got a spare couple of grand and a raging horn, I can recommend nothing better that a night with Brighton's most infamous whore, Skanky Ethel.She doesn't come cheap, but she's worth every penny. Her pelvic floor muscles are the strongest in the world - if you look at the Guiness Book of Records, you'll see photos of the time she pulled a juggernaut out of a ditch with her fanny. Imagine what a cunt like that could do for a man. She has a "no orifice too small" policy and will let you fuck her in the ears, for the right price. You might be wondering "how?" and "why?." Trust me, if you saw the smile on the faces of those who have been there, you'd have your cock out, covered in baby oil and be ready to rock in seconds. Best of all with Ethel, she's not a clock-watcher. She'll go like the clappers and won't stop until you're done.Of course, some might say that I'm only promoting Ethel because she's on my books and I want my 90%. Bollocks, I say, every man should have go on Ethel, she's a must-do-before-you-die-experience!More heart-warming whores here!

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Ooh Matron! The Emergency Services do a wonderful job at Pride every year - providing succour to the middle-aged men having an ecstasy-induced spack-out in the middle of the Wildfruit tent, doling out morning-after pills to the girls who pissed in the wrong place in the bushes and playing fast and loose with the turkey baster in the Lesbian Tea Tent. I snapped these three angels of mercy as they took five minutes off from their duties to savour the sights of the festival. Bless them, they knew exactly who I was (ihink they must be on Flickr!), asked for my autograph and wanted to know if I'd come and visit them at the Geriatric Ward at the County Hospital some time soon. How could I refuse? I was pilled up to the eyeballs and wouldn't have been able to say no whatever you asked me. God bless Nurses, they even said they'd give me one of their uniforms - I do love a bit of starch against my skin. ;)

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And what a shhexy chick she is too! At the age of 97, Lolita Grimshaw is the world's oldest lesbian who, in spite of her advancing years and sagging bits, still sets a glamourous example to the younger members of the sisterhood. You'll never see a hair out of place on Lolita, she's always waxed to the max. And no dungaree or biker jackets either, oh no. Ms Grimshaw is from an age where lesbians knew the value of eyeliner and coy smiles. If I had a hat, I'd raise it to you, Lolita!

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The high-point of the parade's "Carry On" theme was the appearance of Barbara Windsor in a fantabulous float with a giant model of the buxom blonde in with her lady bits discreetly on display.Although the truth is the artist used an entirely different Windsor as his model, that's right, the The Duchess of Cornwall, Camilla Rosemary Mountbatten-Windsor!Apparently Babs told them to fuck right off when asked if she could sit for an afternoon, so they asked old horsey-chops if she'd mind standing in. She's such a trooper, Camilla, always happy to do a favour for a couple of queens.

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It's party weekend at Casa Corin, friends coming from all over the country to revel in Brighton's seaside sun. So, as ever, it falls to me to feed the five thousand.Boy, are they in for a treat! I snuck into a local farm last night, pretended it was a pick-your-own and got myself a good harvest of pig cocks for Saturday's barbecue on the beach.The fatty tissue on a pig's pecker makes for a sizzling barbecue. If you want to cook naked, BE CAREFUL. I'd also advise being well shaven, you don't want to ruin dinner because of a burning bush. Cook 'em slow, cook 'em long, if you get it right you'll end up with something akin to a giant pork scratching with a tender cut of meat in the centre. Nothing says summer than the smell of sizzling pig cock.*smacks lips*

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I was mulling over the whole marriage proposal thing last night, Beebo kept trying to persuade me by doing the Carolinian Two-Step he's so proud of (and, to be fair, he is a master of this most carnal of arts). Anyhow, once we were spent, he snuck off back home, as his wont and I was left wringing the sheets out and picking the broken glass up off the floor. Suddenly: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, it felt like something was ripping my cunt into pieces! No, it wasn't another miscarriage, just a spot of crabs left by my recently departed beau. I do love a bit of seafood, and this was such a fucking whopper, it offers culinary opportunities I had only ever dreamed of. But the reality of it is that I can't be going about my daily business with one of these living in my pubes. I think there are a couple more that snuck up my chuff, so I'm going to have to visit Rentokil this morning to get them removed. I think tonight I'll put on a crab barbecue down on Brighton beach, there's enough there to feed the five thousand. Do come down, it'd be great to see you!

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I never thought I'd have my holiday romance with a woman, but I'm always up for trying new things.Her name was Isabella. She spotted me coming out of the sea one morning and knew in an instant that she had to have me. And how could I resist? She's a fiery Spanish beauty, with a figure to die for and tits you can lose yourself in for hours. We shared our first kiss over a paella and jug of sangria, we wore the floors out with our flamenco dancing and fisted for hours on the beach in a scene that wouldn't have been out of place in From Here To Eternity.It was heart-breaking to leave her at the airport, but all good things come to an end. And bits of sand keep dropping out of my cunt as a sweet reminder of my lovely Isabella.I don't think I'll meet a woman like her again soon.*sighs*

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The creche Pippa's kids go to have just been reading Chuck Palahniuk's Guts as part of the Government's literacy campaign. They knew I was a fan too, so asked me along to direct their dramatic interpretation of the piece for Parents' Day. They're not ones to do things by halves - they cast their pet elephant as the narrator. The kids were playing the contents of the intestine, I nearly wore my fingers to the bone sewing carrot-chunk costumes! With minutes to go, they all piled up the elephant's arse, waiting there for the start of the show.Except no one knew that Nelly was constipated and was utterly incapable of taking a shit. The performance was ruined, the parents disappointed and Shhexy was sent off to Asda to buy a fuck load of prunes.We're still waiting.All in all, not a good day.:(

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Every year, the Brighton Festival brings the best of art, dance, music and theatre to town. The highlight for me has definitely been yesterday's concert by notorious thrash-metal band Shit In My Face. I've been a huge fan of SIMF since their debut album, It's not rape if you can't see her face" stormed into the top 10 in 2003. I got a call from the show's organisers yesterday morning, they were in a right tizzy because their shipment of hamsters had turned up dead, which was obviously no good for SIMF's performance. They needed a fresh supply, and pronto, so naturally they came to me. In exchange for 50 of my ripest rodents, I wangled front-row seats and a backstage pass. The show ROCKED, the band were on fire and so were my hamsters, the sizzle of burning fur wafting across the crowd, the hamster's squealing in harmony with the guitars. Afterwards. I went backstage and met the band. The lead singer, Johnny Cumstain, took quite a shine to me and took me back to his trailer to help him remove some of the hamsters from earlier. He told me that my little critters were the best he'd ever worked with and wanted me to be his regular supplier. Once business was sorted we got down to some hardcore groupie sex. I'll say one thing about the Shit In My Face boys, they certainly live up to their name. What a night.

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Lovely lads they are, they called me yesterday morning, telling me they had a few troubles at home and needed a safe haven so they could avoid the authorities for a while. They were on my doorstep when I got home from work, armed to the back-teeth with wine, flowers and some of their Shhexy's Shhpecial Falafel for dinner (try adding a bit of pancetta to the mix, you'll never look back!). I think they'll be here for a while, it'll be a tight squeeze in my little flat, but somehow it doesn't ever feel cramped in bed, the Hezbollah boys know how to treat a lady!

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Women in Brighton are always looking for environmentally friendly alternatives to the mindless waste of modern life. In other words, they're hippy cunts. But they're hippy cunts with money to spend and I'm not fussy when it comes to cold hard cash. Inspired by the Mooncup, but also mindful of its use of plastic, I decided to try and find an even greener product to swab up the monthly flow. My love of the animal kingdom gave me the perfect answer. For the last few months I have been breeding a particularly placid type of leech/slug hybrid. They don't voraciously suck blood, instead they absorb it through their skin. You shove it up your cunt at the first sign of your period, leave it up there to happily eat its fill. Once the food dries up, the leech will simply plop out into your gusset. The leech will have absorbed enough of the red stuff to survive until the next time you're on the blob. You can just keep him in a little tank, with some leaves to roll around in. Price? A very reasonable £9.99, guaranteed to last at least a year. Almost half the price of a Mooncup and about 100% less disgusting, I'm sure you'll agree. Best viewed LARGE.

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Everybody knows that the tastiest Dog Cock Frittata is made with meat that is fresh off the bone. There is no better way to do this than to harvest the cock whilst the dog is still alive, preferably with his tackle well out. I've found a good trick is to do your cooking at about 4 in the afternoon, when some attractive lady dogs are being walked past your window. If you're not fortunate enough to live in a busy dog thoroughfare, then just get some dog porn printed up and the job's a good 'un. You get the cleanest cut with some good garotte wire, you can get it for about three quid at Woolworths. Just get under the dog, have your arms in position, and at the opportune moment, whip your hands round and pull tight in one swift movement. Chop immediately and throw straight in the pan. Seasoned chefs will use the ancient Errol Flynn method of using their teeth. And that's how you'll be served cock at Casa Corin, probably with bite marks, they give the dish a lovely rustic finish. Buon Appetito!

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