By | 14th March 2017

A bit of nonsense, this. It started as an entry into the #Euphoff competition which looks for terrible sex writing, all full of awful euphemisms for body parts and sex acts. The only problem was I got to the allotted 500 words and realised that, while it passed the ‘terrible writing’ test it had neither a single sex act nor a single euphemisms! Not a good start. I decided to post it here anyway.

If the Victorians had the Internet

My Dear Sophia

I always thought you a most estimable young lady, a perfect niece, as polite as you are decorous and such a help to your mother since your poor father passed away. I saw such innocence in your pretty smile, your trim waist and, if this is not too forward a notion for an Uncle, quite the shapeliest derrière in all Hertfordshire.

I am presently penning a most peremptory pamphlet titled “The Moral Dangers Posed By The Interweb To Young Ladies Of Good Breeding.” I am forced by the painful exigencies of my research to spend time on the hateful interweb. Imagine my horror at finding, among portrayals of common harlots, an image of my fair niece, dressed only in her undergarments and accompanied by suggestions of a most lewd and unbecoming nature.

Since the death of your dear father I have been singularly neglectful of my obligations as your uncle, despite knowing all along that certain familial duties, not least the castigation of young ladies, can only properly performed by a man. Clearly your Mother’s discipline has lacked sufficient vigour to steer you away from this impropriety and, though the prospect of tarnishing so perfect a rose fills me with distaste, I fear I must gird my loins for this onerous duty. Easter Sunday provides the perfect opportunity as I shall be visiting Slattern Hall for luncheon.

My dear, you will proceed as follows. Some days before my visit arm yourself with your darling Mother’s sharpest secateurs and repair to the birch tree in the orchard. There cut a good half dozen strong and well matched switches, each no less than 30 inches long. They should be neither so thin they might disintegrate with the first blow, nor too stout for the intended purpose. Tie the thicker ends together tightly with a fair ribbon, take them to the stables and there place them in a pail of water that they might remain supple until my arrival.

It being your dear Mama’s habit to sleep in the drawing room after luncheon, once she has quietened you will head for the stables, remove your dress and your undergarments and arrange yourself over the trestle. There, my dear, you shall await my arrival and your punishment.

This will, I fear, be a most painful experience, leaving your beautiful posterior grievously marked and sore, yet I trust you will come to recognise its efficacy.

I see no need for us to trouble your Mother with either your indiscretion or my retribution. The poor dear has so much on her mind. I notice she has invited me for luncheon on May Day. How propitious! This will afford us further opportunity for judicious moral correction.

As ever, your very fondest

Uncle Mortimer





  1. The Other Livvy

    This is so good! Deliciously silly but with great anticipation… I hope you give the #EuphOff another try. I’d love to see what you write! Xxx

  2. Curvaceous Dee

    Oh, this is /glorious/! I take it you’re also a fan of ‘The Pearl’ and equivalent tales? You got the tone just right 🙂

    xx Dee


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