A tourist at the safari guesthouse asks me to speculate on whether a bugging device would fit inside Lady Gaga’s vagina. Although not familiar with the diva’s internal dimensions, I assure him that current eavesdropping technology would be up to the task. The latest miniaturised gadgets could comfortably nestle inside the tightest of birth canals. I nevertheless feel bound to ask what noble purpose would be served by placing the said gadget in Lady Gaga’s reproductive tract.
“I’ve heard a rumour that one of her lovers likes to talk to her twat before giving her oral sex,” explains the guest. “I’d love to know what he says to it.”
“Why on earth would anyone do that?” I ask. “It’s not as if you could get a decent conversation going.”
“Dunno,” replies the guest. “It might be like a gardener talking to his plants before watering them. It’s supposed to make them more receptive to the moisture.”
“In that so?” I remark. “In that case, one would suppose he woos the coochie with honeyed words. A haughty or boastful tone is unlikely to put it in a good mood. All of which will remain within the realm of conjecture, as there is no feasible method of implanting the listening device without Lady Gaga noticing.”
“How about embedding it inside a tampon?” asks the visitor.
“A clever idea, but I doubt any creature whose reflection is visible in a mirror would be interested in feasting on Lady Gaga’s vulva when its condition necessitated the use of a tampon.”
“Maybe her gynaecologist could be bribed,” he persists.
“I don’t know who the man is, but ones presumes he is eminent is his field. It would have to be an enormous bribe to induce him to risk his reputation by sneaking a gizmo into the holy of holies. I fear you will make no progress on this project until a method of debriefing pubic lice is discovered. My advice would be to wait until her lover spills the beans. They always do in the end.”
I am inspired by this conversation to do some research on Lady Gaga’s social activities. It seems that she mates promiscuously with humans of either gender. In an interview with Rolling Stone magazine, she spoke about her boyfriends’ attitude to her bisexuality:
"The fact that I’m into women, they’re all intimidated by it. It makes them uncomfortable. They’re like, “I don’t need to have a threesome. I’m happy with just you.”
I find this very puzzling. Surely most men would consider it a privilege and an education to participate in such lavish adventures. My friend Smacker Ramrod, the circus vet, said that when such opportunities arose he always brought a pen and paper to take notes. “There is nothing a woman can do to a woman that a man can’t do to a woman,” he wisely remarked.
So, in spite of her prodigious fame and fortune, it appears that Lady Gaga’s experience of men is rather limited. All her male lovers seem to be insecure wimps who resent her Sapphic activities and talk when they should be acting. I hope she soon meets a real man like the great Tom Jones: he would show her how men pleasured women in the days before oral sex was invented.
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wooing the coochie
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