not one for the kiddies

sorry mum, but she challenged me.

jake gyllenhaal's penis was very, very confused. he had woken up with a dry mouth and a splitting headache in a very unfamiliar place. he seemed to be trapped in a dark, watertight room that gave him a not-so-fresh sick-to-his-stomach kinda feeling.

"where am i", jake gyllenhaal's penis pondered.

"and how did i get here?" he pondered some more.

all in a tizz, he tried to recall the events of the previous evening. he had begun the night with his best mate, jake gyllenhaal's right hand, watching a mail-order russian porn movie entitled "чуваки черного хода, имеющие поединки подушки и fisting друг друг" ("backdoor bimbos having pillow fights and fisting each other").

pulsating with energy like a toddler on a mechanical pony, jake gyllenhaal's penis had decided to leave the gimp chamber in which he lived to go out and find some fun. so with his usual wingman, jake gyllenhaal's nipple, in tow, he had headed for the screaming eagle, his favourite trashy dive.

after a few jizz sucking sluts (the screaming eagle's special concoctions known to make a man both blind and incredibly virile) jake gyllenhaal's penis was bursting with man-juice and ready for some action. so when he heard strangely familiar a husky female voice somewhere in the room say to him, "jake gyllenhaal's penis, you can toss my salad any day", he acted quickly, blindly fumbling his way across the bar in the direction of the husky temptress, and whisking her back to the gimp chamber for some hot lovin'.

"but who was she?" jake gyllenhaal's penis pondered.

"and why did her voice sound so familiar?" he pondered some more.

and that's when he realised, with a suicidal mix of horror and disgust, just who that husky voice belonged to. she was none other than amanda vanstone, the federal minister for immigraton and multicultural and indigenous affairs. and he, jake gyllenhaal's penis was trapped in the suffocating folds of amanda vanstone's panties. probably never to see the light of day again.