Sweet Disorder

DELIGHT IN DISORDER
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher:
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat:
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part.

-Robert Herrick

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What’s wrong with ‘penis’?

So I wrote this preview for a superb looking night happening at Corsica Studios, and the PR asked me to please remove any references to ‘penis’ from my article. Now, I am not a vulgar young lady, nor do I enjoy vulgarity. I find it unnecessary and unpleasant, so when this personage requests that I remove certain references, I need to know why. Are we really living in an England that doesn’t like the ‘p’ word? The last person I remember struggling with saying it out loud was a certain girl in my high school Biology class. This particular lass just could not ask a question referring to the male unmentionable, never mind actually using it’s common name. Whilst studying the reproductive system, this proved rather problematic. To understand why I reference this appendage at all, you’d have to read the article:

http://www.spoonfed.co.uk/spooners/skye-10352/kreatures-at-corsica-studios-3124/

But it really is only mentioned once with regards to a DJ who literally has a silicone penis nose attached to a mask which he wears during his performances. I don’t find it charming or sweet or tasteful and what makes the spectacle even more grotesque is the fact that this manufactured genitalia moves in time to music! It moves! I actually couldn’t bear to watch a YouTube video of one of the DJ’s sets. I just couldn’t. It’s perfectly horrendous. At the same time, you have to acknowledge that not many a man has covered his head in pink,wrinkly silicone and attached this degree of Pinocchio style sniffer front and center. But this ridiculous man’s attempt at wit and being noticed is not the point, the point is, why should I change an explanation of something so direct and if I were to refer to it in a less obvious format, the only synonyms are probably worse than the term ‘penis’. Anyway, the night looks eerily sci-fi and deliciously bizarre. I truly wish I was going. Nevertheless, I will soldier on and serve London folk food and drink, making a pound or two in an attempt to cheer up to my bank account, who seems to be slipping deeper and deeper into what I like to call; depression.