BONKING MAD by BARRY BONKING

The Romantic adventures of a crazy Brit

My dear father once said to me, son, go forth and multiply and sow your wild oats. Oh boy, did I go forth and sow my wild oats. I even multiplied too! The only thing is that when I finally went to sow my oats, it ended in absolute and total disaster with a child paternity suit down Mexico way, yes really! It was a disaster waiting to happen, or rather, I was a disaster waiting to happen and boy did it happen when on the 8th December, 2008, my first and only son Jayden was born to a dodgy English father, ie, moi, and an even dodgier Mexican mother. Well, we guys did tend to think with what we have between our legs, didn’t we guys? I’m sure the ladies would agree with that one. That’s exactly why most of us guys got ourselves into so much trouble, especially my good self, hence the above.

At the tender age of forty - one and a bit, yes, I know it, I may have been a bit past my prime, but I wasn’t past my sell-by date though, oh no! I hoped to be sowing my wild oats for a while yet folks. I was on a mission, a mission of fun and pure love. Before embarking on another one of my crazy and totally hair-brained and disorganized romantic journey's, my father rather abruptly shouted to me, ''by the way son’’, ‘’you won’t be getting your inheritance until you settle down and do something more constructive with your life instead of just screwing up your life and everybody's life too! I thought, wow! That was a bit, harsh dad. He then continued by saying. ‘’I’ve got a deal for you matey’’ and it’ll be a bit of a challenge for you too. ‘’If you can go and find yourself a nice girl, settle down with, bare me a brat or two, and prove to me you’ve grown up and worth something, then you can have your dosh, got it? Besides young man,’’ it’s about time you gave me a grandchild or two, in order to carry on the family line, ‘’So the buck stops with you fella’’. Wow, I thought, my old man was really serious this time and what ’’no inheritance‘’ my god, that wasn’t good news. What was all that shit about? Maybe, just maybe, I should take my old man seriously for a change.

The thought of myself ever getting married, settling down, and having some brats hadn’t even entered into my sordid little mind, just yet. Signing my life away and supposedly living a life of domestic bliss sent shivers down my spine, in fact, just the thought scared the shit out of me, to be honest.

As the black sheep of the family and the only one that at, point blanc, totally refused to settle down, these were the reasons for the conditions attached to gaining my inheritance. My boring siblings would get their inheritance for sure lucky bastards. Yes, marriage was a real dirty word to me and was definitely not on the cards for me unless the wench had a few quid to keep me in the lap of luxury that is. I got bored far too easily for that and anyway, marital sex would bore the crap out of me as I would compare it to daytime TV, utterly predictable and uncreative. So there, folks, I was a player, not a stayer. I compared marriage to a pack of cards. You first start with two hearts and a diamond but you end up wishing you had a club and a spade, so for that reason, marriage was definitely on the cards for moi.

Although I wasn't exactly born with a silver spoon shoved up my little skinny white bum, but my life till now had been pretty good with absolutely no direction at all except into either a westerly or easterly direction for a spot of fun in the sun. I had absolutely no commitments, no screaming kids to feed or bring up thank god, There was so much more to life than just working your butt off, settling down, and rearing some brats. I valued my freedom far too much for settling down with people and life was way too short for all that my god. The girls and ladies, not to be confused, compared me to a lovable rogue but unfortunately, I was more of a rogue than lovable!

I had a love-hate relationship with the boring nine till five routines, I loved to hate it! Life was for living and loving and I would certainly do lots of both in the coming years, throwing caution not to just the wind, but just about anything that got in my way.

With this new challenge in my life, it was giving my mind food for thought as I couldn’t afford to lose my inheritance and my father wasn’t talking peanuts either folks, my inheritance was worth a cool million or two, as pound signs started to a ''cachunging'' in my eyes. Just the thought of settling down to domestic bliss, playing happy families, and marital sex weren’t an option for me but I just had to get my hands on a undeserved inheritance? Well, okay, maybe not well deserved but it was mine nevertheless. Maybe I could just pretend to be in love, marry some lovesick wench and then just do a runner when I got my, dosh legging it towards the sunset. That sounded like a plan and a half and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.

Well, as I wasn’t a complete bastard, well, almost, but I would have to leave the poor wench a few quid to feed the little brat too. I wouldn’t feel so guilty about leaving her either. That’s it then, all sorted and now to carry on with sowing my wild oats but I had to lose something very prized and valuable to me first. Yes, you guessed it, it was my much-valued virginity, but I would make up for all that lost time, don't you worry folks.

During my short life so far, disaster loomed and followed me wherever I went, with no exceptions bar none, in the romantic department that was. I realized at quite an early age, I didn’t have an employee mentality, I was what I call, economically inactive, more commonly known as ''unemployed''. Some people failed their way to the top. Well, I just failed my way to the bottom! And I am still there too, unfortunately! The view isn't too good either folks.

I think it was better that I just, well, buggered off around the world really, much to the annoyance of many a fine young lady, and her parents sometimes. With Barry Bonking, it was a case of, lock up your daughter’s folks, otherwise, disaster ensued, almost definitely, but at some point, I just knew that I would have to do some grafting in order to raise the dosh to get my butt out of the UK.

Secretly, I was hoping to meet my soulmate, maybe the love of my life too, or even a sugar-mummy that might look after me. Now that would be a real bonus as I was such a lazy git. Damn it, folks, If a girl could get a Sugar Daddy, then why couldn't a guy get a Sugar-Mummy? If I didn't earn my inheritance then I may as well just go and fall in love with a rich bitch if all else failed! The world was my oyster and I would not throw caution to the wind.

The first forty years of my crazy, hazy life have been an almost complete disaster in all senses of the word, and I hated to think what the next forty will bring, that’s if I lived that long that is. I would probably die disgracefully if the first years forty years were anything to go by. My middle name was ‘’ marmite’’ because people either loved me or hated me. Thank god most people loved me, especially the girls.

I was definitely more successful as a youngster before an unexpected asthma attack blew my promising athletics career out of the water. At school and district level I was unbeatable at the fifteen-hundred metres for over five years and represented my county many times and apart from winning the Mr knobbly-knees competition 1975, I never had much success at anything else except with the young ladies of course.

Whilst I was on this earth, all I really wanted to do with myself as well, basically, have a bloody good time really, was there anything wrong with that I ask you? I also wanted to discover the world and what life was about. For me, it was mainly about fun, women, and with a bit of culture thrown in for good measure. I never worked hard, life was far too short for that, and in any case, I was a lazy bugger anyway.

In terms of finding the love of my life and my soul mate, I just had to follow my instinct, and that was very rarely wrong. Everybody had a soul mate, well, except Barry Bonking, and I knew that I had to travel far and wide to find her, wherever that may be? I think a little fun on the way wouldn’t go amiss either, after all, life was for a living, wasn’t it. The philosophy behind that was that just in case I never found her, then at least a good time was had by all. Well, at least by me!

I was convinced that most guys, especially moi, had a naughty little school-boy in them, I was no exception folks. And I was also convinced that most ladies liked that in a guy too! I aimed to take full advantage of as well, oh yes people.

There was actually some method in all my madness, and deep down, for some strange reason, I felt that I probably would never find the love of my life here in a damp and miserable Basingstoke town center anyway. You see, I liked a touch of the old exotic and there was absolutely nothing exotic in Basingstoke either, except for the odd plastic palm tree scattered here and there, which did absolutely bugger all to enhance Basingstoke's shitty image. I personally felt that the local council should nuke the whole crappy town center but I did tend to go to the extreme.

As you all know by now that my three main weaknesses in life were traveling, having fun, and women but not necessarily in that order either. All I was going to do was fill my life full of adventures, good times and memories, the only way I would achieve all that was by traveling, meeting different people and then bonking some of them! Not the fat ones though, well maybe just one or two but we will go into that deeper a bit later. Please don’t get me wrong here as I had absolutely nothing against fatties, not at all, someone had to love them but it wasn't going be moi! Oh no, folks. As you all know by now, I had my standards, albeit not very high ones. I didn't discriminate against the podgy ones. I just didn’t want to be flattened by some hulking walrus whenever she went on top that’s all, bugger that! I loved life too much to die too young.

During these travels, I felt all the emotions that one can experience in a lifetime, excitement, thrills, euphoria, lust, and the ultimate and strongest the emotion of all, of course, that being love, yes, I did say that bloody L-word called love! I could be compared to a horny sailor that had a girl in every port, but I had to be different, go one better as I not only left a girl with a broken heart in nearly every port but in almost every town too. I left no stone unturned, or rather a woman unturned or untouched hardly, poor wenches really. Lock up your daughter’s folks were the name of the game from the point of view of their poor long-suffering parents!

I heard my calling when most intrepid travellers just followed their hearts, I just followed, well, actually it wasn’t my heart, to be honest, it was my willy! And quite often with disastrous results too. It was amazing how I didn’t pick up any venereal disease along the way although I’m sure I got more than a dose of galloping knob rot on the way. Life had always been a mixture of triumphs and disasters, with many more disasters than triumphs, of course, the magnitude of which would resemble 7.9 on the Richter scale if compared to an earthquake. I know what you're all thinking, that I was just a shallow Hal, but there was much more to all my perennial ''Willy Wonderings'' than you think! Oh yeah! Much much more

My travels took me as far afield as the Philippine Islands, South East Asia, North America, Mexico, Italy, France, Belgium, Spain, Switzerland, Holland, Portugal, Colombia, the Caribbean, and Costa Rica and not forgetting good old sunny Bournemouth, yes, I did mean Bonking Bournemouth, which had, in my honour, been renamed Bonking Bournemouth due to all my debauchery and the obvious, yes, you guessed it, a little bonking too. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it either, but I travelled and bonked all over the globe and of course not leaving my home turf untouched. I did my utter best for Queen and country, by Jove, I bonked for my country too! I wasn’t one to just sit back and watch the action, my god, I wanted a piece of it too. They do say it’s the taking part that counts, not the winning. My son would be proud of me, I think.

My thirst for the babes and totty knew no limits, especially after losing my much-valued virginity at long last whilst on a typical busy Bank holiday weekend in bonking Bournemouth. This duly increased my appetite for the female form and a bit more of the old hanky panky. I often found the local girls hard work and a little too much up their own arses although their attitudes did mellow quite considerably after a few drinks which they certainly never paid for, ouch! It is fair to say that the ladies were a lot easier prey after a few bevies though women always cost a guy some cash in some way. We guys had to get some payback and our money's worth somehow didn't we fellas?

As far as rules and standards of love were concerned, I would be the first to admit that well, there weren't too many hard and fast rules or even bloody standards for that matter, except for the odd one or two. The first of which was no jailbait or sleeping with the fatties. This rule went quickly out of the window when myself and co-conspirators were really horny and there was no decent totty around, hence the lowering of our standards. but we will go into that deeper a bit later folks. Please don’t get me, wrong people. I had nothing against fatties, not at all, there were quite a few pretty podgy ones. It was just that I didn’t want to be flattened by some hulking walrus whenever she went on top, that's all, bugger that for a laugh!

Once, a rather large, black female friend of mine once said to me, Barry, darker the skin, sweeter the juice, and with that folks, I never really looked back. They do say that if you have black, you never go back. And to be totally honest, I haven't been back, but I have tried all sorts of different dishes throughout the years believe in me. Maybe a dish too many.

Whenever it came to terminating relationships I was utterly ruthless in my execution of said event, like the time I really wanted to finish with a particular a girlfriend who was giving hassle. Instead of just telling the wench to simply, to bugger off, I just sent her a ‘’Youtube’’ video of the seventies pop group 10cc’s number one hit, ‘’I’m not in love’’ just to give her the hint that the good times were over. Unfortunately, the girl in question didn’t get the drift owing to her total lack of the English language and didn’t understand a bloody word as like most of my babes she was foreign and usually, her English was crap.

Another reason, which propelled me into my crazy and disorganized travels, was the fact that I hated the bloody British climate and the permanently miserable grey skies of home base London. I had to look for warmer climes and a fine lady to keep me company during the winter months abroad. I was doing no wrong except maybe for leaving the odd broken heart here and there.

With regards to work and my career I always felt that doing the same boring job for god knows how many years in some horrible, boring, sweaty office playing bloody office politics wasn’t for me and I always held a certain curiosity for the outside world and what it had to offer. The foreign totty too, of course, was a bonus. I was a born rebel with many causes and was really born never to have a job. I swear I had more jobs than hot diners, in fact, I probably had more women than hot dinners too as I was a shit cook and preferred just beans on bloody toast instead of cooking.

Talking about the totty, if you asked looked at all the top totty that I had bagged, it certainly resembled something like the pickin' mix sweet counter at the old Woolworths department store, if you're old enough to remember it.

On the day that I was flying out of London, I enjoyed nothing more than watching the peasants and riff-raff go off to their miserable little office jobs, especially on a wet and windy winter Monday morning, and if I was ever to actually to do any sort of some hard work in this world, then the only person in this world I would work hard for was for myself. I didn’t believe in building anybody else’s dreams just my own. I never did a hard day’s work for anybody else either. Bugger that for a laugh.

With regards to actually traveling and flying, I always thought that buying a first-class plane ticket was a total waste of my very hard-earned dosh and so I always ended up in the riff-raff class. Most of the time I really couldn’t afford a first-class ticket anyway. That was the only bit I hated about traveling sitting there with the rest of the bloody peasants.

Life was for living and not for wasting time and I only had one shot at this game and wanted to make the most of it. After the passing of so many years, I find it hard to remember many of my poor victim’s names, so I’ve had to substitute the odd name or two.

My dear old mother, God bless her soul, said I was a waster and complete underachiever, I totally agree with the old battle-ax, but I do feel that I had achieved some notable things in this crazy life of mine. So far, having learned three foreign languages fluently, traveled to over thirty-five countries and only getting locked up in only three of them, so far. As a youngster, I competed for my school, my town, my county in Athletics and X-Country and having shagged at least over one hundred women in over twenty–five different countries and in three continents, which I feel, was by any means no mean feat. A feat I must add I’m rather proud of and feel would take some beating. That alone deserved a bloody medal surely! Now if you think that that is underachieving, I really don’t know what to bloody say.

Maybe to a certain extent my mother was right, as I know that I could have achieved a lot more yet with my life and as I’m still not dead yet, I could still go on to achieve much more. While we’re on the subject of my dear old mother, with whom I had a love-hate relationship, I just loved to hate the old battle-ax! Ouch sorry Mum, only joking.

Once my very successful athletic career had ended, my life was pretty much downhill from then on and found very little success ever since. The only success that I seemed to achieve since was with the ladies and totty, so I thought that I might as well enjoy the ride for as long as it last’s as I wouldn’t be a young man forever. They say that one should grow old gracefully whatever that meant but it was highly improbable for me. I was much more likely to grow old disgracefully unless my life took a dramatic u-turn or my attitude. Only time will tell for this weary travelling vagabond. I really didn’t give a damn what my dear Mother or anyone else thought of me, as long as I had enjoyed my life, lived life to the full, well, as far as my willy and wonga have allowed me to that is. I never took myself too seriously or even my own crazy life, the ladies even less.

After my first taste of travel, I got itchy feet and after bedding a few of the local female natives, I got more than just itchy feet, it got itchy between my legs too but we won’t go into that just right now folks as that's another story. My feet have never stopped itching since my travels. I guess getting itchy feet was better than getting itchy nuts.

My frequent travels have taken me to some of the dodgier parts of the of the globe for example Colombia, South America, which needs no introduction. I must have been the only idiot that actually went looking for the infamous Colombian Farc guerrillas my God. Those buggers couldn’t even kidnap this one crazy little English geezer after fifteen visits to the country. That must be a record or what. I mean, I thought the Farc were supposed to be experts at kidnapping people, especially the foreigners, I must say that I was most disappointed at not being snatched, which left me thinking that these so-called Guerrillas are just a bunch of pussies after all. Absolutely amazing how I didn't get bloody kidnapped, I’m so glad too as I couldn’t actually see anyone paying a bloody ransom for this lovable nutcase anyway.

I also graced the Philippine Islands and its people with my royal presence at the time of the President Marcos dictatorship and no it wasn't good timing at all. It wasn't surprising that I almost got myself into some serious shit at times being shot at and nearly getting my ass blown off in the process with all the political upheaval there. No, my timing was never my strong point but it was all good fun in the end and has given me more than just a few laughs and memories!

I sometimes only realized the absurdity of my constant worldly willy wanderings and crazy adventures when, flying at some, 35,000 feet in the air when it was too bloody late to turn back. Quite often than not it was just lust and not love that kept me entertained during my many travels as the motto was more often than not, just love‘em and leave’ was the name of the game! I learned very early in life that ''love'' would only get me into trouble and cost me a lot more wonga too! The lust did get me into a little trouble from time to time too, everything and everyone had a price.

I made myself a promise that if in the possible event of my sad mental demise, or if I was ever to lose complete control of my faculties and fall in love with one of these poor young wenches and actually marry one of them, then I would never be unfaithful to the girl. Until then I couldn’t make any such promises.

As for skeletons in the cupboard, my past does, however, contain one dark secret, but whether I ever reveal such a secret remains to be seen, as such a secret could put me behind bars for a short period. I swear that I didn't hurt or rob anybody folks. That’s just where I didn’t want to end up as I had been there before due to just being in the wrong place and in the wrong country too, it was bloody Mexicoactually! twice in less than two weeks too, ouch! That must have been a Mexican record, especially and I was innocent both times, honestly people.

Before my sell-by date expired on this crazy planet of ours, I just wanted to sow my wildest oats as much as possible, without leaving too many child paternity suits behind that were, of course, to find the love or lust of my life. If I ever found my soulmate would be a bonus, a bloody miracle for this crazy geezer.

I always wondered if I would meet my maker one day, as I was a player, not a stayer, and if someone would actually break my little heart, only time would tell me that. There was more to me than met the eye, in fact much more. I did actually have some culture in these naughty ones of mine, not much, but yes, I did have some culture.

Sorry folks, I also forgot to mention the fact that during my travels, I got banged up abroad on more than one occasion, once in Spain, twice down Mexico way and even once in High Barnet, North London too! Not a good record was it? Being completely innocent on all three occasions of course but such is life and sometimes life’s a bitch and I’ll probably marry one too. Well, there’s a first time for everything I guess, and let’s see where life and love took me in the following pages. I was always a bit of a rebel. A nice rebel, but a rebel with a cause, but I just didn’t know what that cause was.

Maybe deep down with all my worldly wanderings, I was really trying to find my soul mate, the love of my life, if she really existed that was. If she was out there somewhere, then I was going to find her wherever she was lurking. I would walk across the mountains, sail across the oceans if I ever got a sniff of her that was. We will see if she was out somewhere, but first but before all that, I needed some fun in the sun first. With me, it was never love at first sight, more like lust at first sight people, the shallow Hal that I was.

Finding a title for this book wasn’t hard to find as several names cropped up in that little sordid mind of mine like, a headless chicken would have made a great title. I got that idea from a once good friend of mine that asked me once, why the hell did I go chasing the ladies around the globe like a headless chicken! Well, to be honest, I didn’t have much of an answer to that one except that the chase was as good as the catch. Well, that depended too as it wasn’t always true. Quite often in my case, the catch was more fun. Another possible book title that popped up into that crazy mind of mine was ‘’naughty boy’’ which I feel at the time of some of my little adventures and escapades, was quite an apt title. Yes, in some ways, I have been a naughty little boy from time to time but don’t most women like a guy with a little naughtiness inside them? I always thought that most ladies liked a naughty boy, yes or no girls? I did have some culture in my weary traveling bones and to an extent, most of my travels, escapades, and willy wonderings had a cultural element to them, which may be surprising to the reader.

From time to time, my deep and insatiable curiosity about life, love and the world got the better of me and unfortunately led me into some serious shit. So did my perennial ''willy wanderings'' too, hence my paternity suit down Mexico way.

The purpose of this book was really just to share a few of my memories, life’s cock-ups, romantic disasters and hopefully make you pee your pants and panties with laughter from all my shenanigans.

For twenty-odd years and counting, I have been traveling life’s highways and byways, mainly on my jack jones and though I loved my dear home country of England, and quite proud to be English, well, sort of that is, I had a yearning for foreign travel, adventure, lust and love. I don’t have a clue as to how many faux pas I made, I think that's French for fuck up, and I made quite a few of them over the years.

What with all this debauchery, shenanigans, and madness, that I was shocked and surprised that I didn't leave more little brats around the place. Well, not to my knowledge anyway. There was a strong possibility that in Paris, there could be a little brat one running around somewhere, even Colombia etc.

Ps, At the age of 41 and a bit I might have been past my prime but I still wasn’t past my sell-by date well, one lives in hope, doesn’t one. Oops, another ps. I didn’t do politics or religion as I was a born-again atheist, thank God!

Lovely Jubbly