According to the latest press release from The Swinging Shagsters of Sussex recreational sex club, there have been a number of changes to membership and participation due to the outbreak of the corona virus. Any member who has tested positive for the virus or is behind in their dues or is a bit smelly has been booted, resulting in a greatly-reduced pool of swappable options.

Still, the survivors of the priapic purge are very excited about the random-coupling configurations ahead. After all, there is little else one can do for entertainment these days now that one cannot leave their flat without a Conjugal Visa signed by HRH Elizabeth. (Despite not having participated in carnal adventures for roughly 37 decades, Liz has agreed to issue said visas to show support for her son, errant Prince Andrew, and his insatiably unsavory needs. No one else in the UK wants to show such support but, well, she’s the queen. And the buck stops at Buckingham, at least in this case.)

In an interesting twist, the remaining (and visa-issued) members of the Shagsters coalesced into a total of six, with an equal number of males and females. (This might be happenstance, or it might be the result of somebody fudging a bit with the protocols, as both options often play a part in Commonwealth conundrums, otherwise known as “what the hell is wrong with some of these people when it comes to national elections?”)

In another moment of happenstance, this intrepid reporter managed to encounter the Sex-Obsessed Sextet whilst I was innocently on a quest for a bagel and schmear. (I have a Gluttony Visa, signed by Boris Johnson.) The Six were quite willing to answer a few questions, as long as I didn’t interfere with the promotional video they were shooting in an effort to attract new members who were virus-free and non-smelly. Herewith, the discussion, left to right:

Angelica Forthright (that’s me!): “Tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

Bernard Upthrust: “I’m just knackered with joy! I can spin the wheel and sleep with any of five people at any time.”

Angie: “Don’t you mean any of three?”

Bernard: “No.”

Angie: “Oh. Do the other two men know about your intentions?”

Bernard: “They will soon enough.”

Angie: “You seem fairly proud of that leg of yours.”

Chastity Belt: “Of course I am. I’ve never been freer than when my legs are in the air. Mum always said that you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you breed!”

Angie: “That might be the saddest misinterpretation of song lyrics that I have ever heard.”

Chastity: “I don’t understand.”

Angie: “I think that’s very clear.”

Angie: “So, third guy in line, the one with the Prince William tribute hairstyle. What are you hoping to get out of this situation? And make it good, because my interest has been deflating based on the inanity of the responses so far.”

Engelbert Humpershrink: “I’m hoping to finally solve my projectile dysfunction.”

Angie: “I’m not even touching that. Nor should anybody else.”

Engie: “Are you making fun of me?”

Angie: “I think you did that on your own. Next.”

Katrina Cointreau: “Is it my turn?”

Angie: “If you’re following the bouncing ball, yes.”

Kat Coin: “I just want to thank all of my fans for following me on Instragram and loving my hairstyle.”

Angie: “Are all of those fans in elder-care facilities?”

Kat: “What does that mean?”

Angie: “I don’t have the strength to explain it.”

Angie: “Speaking of the follicularly-challenged, let’s chat with our next target. What have you learned about yourself?”

Guppy Shankworthy: “I have learned that I am beautiful and deserving of happiness.”

Angie: “Uh huh. So, should I take that to mean that you’ve never actually had sex with any of these people? Because that sounds like a line of poetry that a spinster would scribble in her attic.”

Guppy: “Okay, fine. You’re right. They usually only let me take photos for the website. But with the recent work-force reduction, I have a chance to prove myself and make it into the room with the best waterbed.”

Angie: “Oh, honey. Here, take my card and call me when that doesn’t happen. I normally don’t care, but I’ve got the feels on this one.”

Guppy: “Does this mean that you and I could one day-”

Angie: “Give me the card back. Moving on.”

Trysty Twiggy: “Girl, I am so tired.”

Angie: “I really don’t want to ask, but this is a paid gig, so I have certain obligations. Why are you a wrecked wretch?”

Trysty: “Because I look like Rod Stewart. My ambisexual ambiance means everybody in this club wants to shuck my oyster. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up my blog posts when I’m being posted all the time?”

Angie: “I never want to know that. Ever. But did it ever occur to you that you could simply walk away from the madness and stand up for yourself?”

Trysty: “Well, isn’t that calling the kettle black. You’re an American. Name one elected Republican that has stopped bending over for Trump.”

Angie: “….”

Cheers.