Punny Story Introductions – for YOU to use

I would like to turn these into longer stories but my muse is not getting to grips.

It’s just the kind of stories I like to read, a great role-model, beautiful dresses, escaping from dramatic situations – I’ve got a heroine addiction.

As a child, I would have loved to have lovely long blonde tresses, gently fluffing round my ears and on my neck – a sort of Hair Apparent.

I almost got caught up in the last anti-capitalist riots in the City of London. But it turned out that the police were only watching me because of my miss demeanour.

From Heroin to Heroine - How I went from drug addiction to a cross-dressing crime-fighter. Or perhaps it could have been ‘From Drug to Drag!’

I feel hot, hot, hot ……… wearing my brand-new brazier. Inside, my favourite brasserie was kept warm by good number of burning brassieres.

I love stockings and garter belts – so much nicer than tights or bare legs. It just that getting the seams right seems so tricky.

Down by the harbour doc’s, it was not a bad plaice but the other girls exerted a lot of pier pressure and I lost my sole. It was a bit fishy, but Cod knows what I do next.

If I had to write a Christmas story – I think I’d write about the Three Wise Men and their friend who was perhaps looking after the camels - It’s a kind of Magi.

I enjoy parties. I know there’s a lot of work beforehand setting the event up – and then nearer the tme, choosing the perfect frock and the jewellery and, of course, lingering over the choice of lingerie. It’s what I call a stressful dressful.

In the times of Louis XIV, there were the Four Musketeers. Unknown to the rest of the world, perhaps because they spent their time less on swordplay than on makeup - their female counterparts, the Four Mascara-Tears.----

I’m having a bawl at this ball – my dress is torn and tattered, my future shorn and shattered.

I so desperately want to come out and play – ever since I was a kid. But now I’m older and ‘come out’ means something bigger and so much more complicated. The only opportunity is the local drama group - so I’m going to be really bold and ‘Come out – for the Play’.

Take your daughter to work Day
There’s many a story with this theme. But none with a parent like mine. Cruel, nasty, twisted. She dressed me up in the most dreadful costume and left me on the street – “I’m a prostitute, so you are too. Earn enough money to get a taxi home – or just stay on the streets.“

Cross-Over Day at school
I tried to calculate the opposite of a bookish, skinny, short-haired boy. Yep – I was going to have to be a stupid, curvaceous, long blonde bimbo. How dreadful.

The HelloWine Change.
It’s not the kind of magic you get at Halloween. In our part of the country, we get to the end of the grapoe-picking and we have the HelloWine festival. It’ll surprise you to know that we don’t drink any wine because the new crop hasn’t had time to process and ferment. Wedrink grapejuice and use our senses to calculate what the new wine might become. It’s a time for deep thinking and the preparation for new changes.
But I never realized that there was magic – and it would change me for real.

I have to hope.
I just have to hope that the nasty stories in the media aren’t true. I don’t want them to be true. I want to believe that people are kind and nice and generous. That Christians don’t pick and choose the rules they want to obey. But my Father, the Father of the local church …… I’m beginning to see that hell is on earth.

I want to be Three.
I listen to the track by Queen – but I don’t hear their words. I want to go back to being three. When my mummy loved me. When I was able to wear satin and frills and I had curly blonde hair and I felt so happy.