When sausages cause a female stampede
I hear from my sources that the good women from one of Stockholm’s posher suburbs (which shall remain nameless as their secret is safe with me) positively stampede in a most unladylike fashion in their haste to be first in line for Mr Sausage on his refrigerated van delivery days. But I can understand why - sometimes the thought of Swedish falukorv, a sort of grotesquely florid, mechanically recovered sausage, is just assimilation gone silly and when you are desperate for the real thing, the arrival of Mr Taylor and his wares might well cause an outbreak of over enthusiastic behaviour.
That’s right, ladies; when you’re lusting a thick, firm, juicy sausage, something you can [insert tasteless sexual double entendre here], you don’t want to settle for anything other than what will [insert tasteless sexual double entendre here].
Yes, when Mr. Sausage comes to town with his [insert tasteless sexual double entendre here], you can be sure that the ladies who know from sausage will be lining up to [insert tasteless sexual double entendre here]. Certainly, it’s all about how far a woman is willing to go, even to the point of [insert tasteless sexual double entendre here], in her efforts to find the firm, tasty sausage she dreams of. And yes, ladies, I’m sure you realize that a hard sausage is GOOD to find, no? So good, in fact, that many women will [insert tasteless sexual double entendre here] for even the merest taste.
Take a number, ladies. There’s plenty for everyone.
