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Just heard a programme on BBC radio Woman's Hour (I listen to it to know how modern birds think, so I can come across as sensitive when I'm on the pull) about revenge porn: amateur porn sites where blokes stick up photos of ex-birds or ex-wives sucking them off and whatnot without the bird's direct permission. All the feminist birds are getting their sensible knickers in a right twist about it. Anyway, I started wondering: if I was a bird (long shot, I know, but bear with me a tad) knew that any ex-feller of mine with whom I'd had an acrimonious split was in current possession of spread beaver shots of me, I'd be shitting myself. I'd want then destroyed, I think, certainly not shown to mates in pubs or displayed on the internet. I'm sure no one's got any nude pics of me: no one would want such materials. A German bloke I once worked with used to show me pictures of his Chinese missus sucking him off. Then he asked me if I fancied a threesome with them. I said no. She was quite tasty, but he was a pillhead alcoholic weirdo (the last one bothered me), worked for the German government, and seemed a bit 'lavender' so I reckon he'd have been after some ‘Fiery Jack Back Door Action’ once we'd got down to business, so f*ck that. A randy Irish backpacker bird I shagged in London once back let me take some photos of her with her tits out (knickers still on) on my new digital camera as a ‘souvenir’, but she made me erase all of them right in front of her the next morning when she'd sobered up. She got in a right strop about it, I recall. Obviously an alkie. I lost the camera in a pub a few nights later anyway. And in Hong Kong I once took some polaroid photos (that's how long ago it was) (the mama san let me rent the polaroid camera along with the bird for a few extra dollars) of a Cambodian tart sucking me off and sticking a wee complementary shampoo bottle thing up her arse in a hotel room and brought them through customs back to Japan. But I panicked when I got back to Japan and burnt them, frightened my missus (I was married back then: first wife — the rotten two-faced lying bitch one; not the lovely one that died) would find them and go mad. Wish I'd kept the f*ckers now. She was a gorgeous little thing. Bit chubby, but a lovely smile and massive tits on her. Spoke a few words of English too. Moong, she was called, I remember. So sweet. My heart aches like an old retired steam engine raised on cinder blocks when I think about those days and nights. Anyone got incriminating snaps of you 'in action' or vice versa? jack