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Fred spills the beans Interview with a Vibrator


In an exclusive interview, a slippery sex toy comes clean about its sticky life between the sheets



By woman with her finger on the 'G' spot of America, Jennifer Gardner

Utterpants: "Good evening, Mr. Vibrator. Thank you for agreeing to this interview."
Mr. Vibrator: "Please, don't be so formal. I've seen you naked. Call me Fred."

Utterpants: "Okay Fred. We're sure our readers are keen to know where you're coming from. Where were you born?"
Fred: "I was made in China by a rubber corporation with a thousand other vibrators. We must've looked quite funny; an assembly line of little soldiers wearing helmets, ready to fight the war against horniness. From there we were shipped to England. Damn lucky for us; they cut the heads off vibrators in Saudi Arabia, you know. America's not a lot better; it's no fun spending your life up the bottom of a 300-pound trucker from Texas. And no one ever wants to go to Russia because it's hard to stay hot in such a cold climate. Once in England we were divided up and shipped to different places. Most of us went to sex shops, some to schools and the unlucky buggers went to Catholic priests.”

Utterpants: "Fascinating, Fred. Do you like your job?"
Fred: "Love it. Who wouldn't? Sure, some days are harder than others. We vibrators can have headaches too, you know. But for the most part I wouldn't trade my job for any other."

Utterpants: "What's the most difficult part of the job?"
Fred: "Shopping for shoes, I'd say."

Utterpants: "Some have called you heartless womanisers who travel from woman to woman with no real commitment. How do you respond to those accusations?"
Fred: "Do womanisers generally make women happy? Because we always make women happy, and keeping women happy is an uphill job, let me tell you. Sometimes, it's a real bummer, but what the hell, somebody has to do the dirty jobs, right?"

Utterpants: "Er, right, Fred. Is there anything you don't like about being a vibrator?"
Fred: "We've all heard the horror stories, about how unsuspecting vibrators are lured into bed some nights never to be heard of or felt from again. And the baby stories — please, don't leave us lying around if your baby is teething. That happened to my Uncle Arthur. One day Sharon left him lying on the coffee table. The next thing you know the baby was using him as a dummy, sucking him off like he was a lactating breast or something. Art was so mortified he committed suicide in the toilet. I mean what a humiliation for a bloke called Art Penis!"

Utterpants: "Is there anything you're really afraid of?"
Fred: "Being an agnostic — with Buddhist leanings, I've always feared the church handling me. I had a cousin that happened to. One minute he was minding his own business hanging next to a tube of KY Jelly at a posh sex shop in the King's Road, and the next he was taking turns walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death with two very curious and liberated nuns. It wasn't all bad, though. He got Sundays off."

Utterpants: "Any final words to our readers?"
Fred: "Don't neglect us. If you leave us in the bottom of the wardrobe to gather dust, don't complain about your pussy itching when you finally require our services. Here's another thing most women don't realise. If our batteries run down, we're not completely useless. Just talk dirty to us. Hell, we love that!"

Utterpants: "Thank you for your time, Fred, you nasty little cum guzzler."
Fred: "You're welcome. Now turn that bloody tape recorder off, drop your knickers and turn me on!"

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Story © 2004 Jennifer Gardner. Picture, design and construction © 2004 utterpants.co.uk

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