2) The Travelodge is convenient for both the railway and the venue. A bit too convenient for the former you might argue – this was the view from my hotel room window…

It is also very handy for the bus station. I was pleased to see that Warrington has its own fleet of ‘corporation buses’ rather than selling out to Arriva or Stagecoach like so many. These bear the logo “Warrington Borough Council – Making Warrington Move”. What – House? Their bowels?
3) Travelodges great for the health conscious! They are fine for one or two nights but a big step down from a Premier Inn. For a start they have absolutely no catering facilities or bar on the premises. So instead of gorging on the “All you can eat” £7 breakfast as I did in Bristol for their Splunch, in Warrington I had to make do with a tiny parcel dropped outside my door at 7am. Once opened this revealed a tea bag and paper cup, a small bottle of orange juice, a Nutragrain bar and a pot of cereal so small it came with a folding spoon! This cost an extortionate £4.50.

Don’t buy it! There’s a good cafe that does full English just down the road.
4) The Munch is held in the excellent Blue Bell pub in the pedestrian part of the town. Actually most of the town is pedestrianised cos Warrington has been “planned”. Cycle tracks and pedestrian crossings are everywhere which makes it very pleasant to walk around, but a nightmare to park in (I’m told). The pub is handily placed next to a ‘performing’ fountain however woe-betide any drinkers who venture

near it with a glass in their hand. A large mis-spelt and unpunctuated sign in the pub (neatly corrected by a customer in biro) warn that any customer “taking their drinks near the fountain will have them taken away”. I can’t imagine what might have happened in the past can you? Closet sploshers are everywhere.
5) Warrington is a town that has its priorities right. Ten yards from the pub is a massive double fronted shoe shop called Funky Dory selling fetishy high heels and seemingly thriving. Two doors along there is a Starbucks that has closed down! Thank God Hayley wasn’t with me, we would never have got past the window display without melting her plastic.

6) The atmosphere at the Warrington Splunch is very relaxed and casual. Claymore Wam and Muckypup who are the veteran organisers of it (no implication about age there, chaps) are nonetheless quite new to the world of munches so almost as nervous as you probably will be. Nonetheless Claymore is not short of things to say…he is an expert on just about everything from British comedy to postcodes, not to mention TV testcards (I said, not to mention TV testcards!). So don’t worry about being nerdy. You’ll feel right at home!
Not that everyone there was a pub trivia fan. Muckypup is refreshingly down to earth (and handy for derailing conversation that get too orientated towards steam trains) and there were other guests to keep everyone entertained. Carmen Fantastic, a beautiful brunette submissive from Liverpool and her partner Gentleman Bastard (who was much more the former than the latter) have been performing in their local fetish club for some time and clearly love sploshing. Rhoobarb’s whose custard-covered boobs have graced the forum many times came all the way from Scotland and it was good to see them in the flesh along with her man. Then there was Ghostrider from Newcastle who seemed emminently sensible for a man with a lot of Guinness inside him. All very, very pleasant people to talk to, so you really should come along. I think they have all forgiven me for talking too much.
7) Don’t worry if you’re shy – everyone is! Because a lot of Splunches now have photos of many of the people there it is easy to get the idea that everyone is now totally ‘out’ about their love of sploshing and wants to share it with the world. Not so. When I suggested a group picture in Warrington, adding that anyone who didn’t want to be in it should move out of the way, all but two people moved! As I result, I settled for this shot instead!

There’s a lot of self-congratulation and back slapping by munching members and organisers these days and new people might get the impression that if they attend an event they will find themselves exposed. Nothing is further from the truth. Claymore Wam won’t appear in pictures and he organises it! So don’t let that stop you! The locals are friendly. Everyone I met in Warrington was very easy going and I hardly felt like a namby-pamby southern poof at all. The night receptionist didn’t take the piss when I came in slightly drunk, and the girl on during the day gave me a fascinating description into her day trip to Wembley to see JLS, Alexandra Burke and other X Factoristas perform for the Girl Guides. The waiter at Mojos restaurant even forgave our rubbish attempt at ordering Tapas which resulted in several different plates of meatballs and not much else. He hardly giggled at all.
9) Virgin Trains aren’t THAT bad. My journey back by tilting Pendolino train was not only non-stop from Warrington all the way to Euston but arrived 10 minutes early. “We apologise for the inconvenience caused..” said the announcer but I think he was taking the piss. Over 175 miles in 1hr 45mins – that’s an average of over 100mph. And no the tilting mechanism doesn’t make you feel sick. Actually watching the scenery suddenly tilting towards you is almost exactly like being pissed.
10) It makes you want to do it all again NOW! So many things I meant to say, even more I meant not to say. Too much talk about the Two Ronnies, not enough asking about what people wanted from us. I wish I could go back and do it again. Unfortunately the next one isn’t until April 17th. Surely somebody can organise another meet in the north of England before then. I hope so.

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The correct answer is that they belong to Jenny, a voluptuous vamp who captains my pub quiz team.

Jenny, just 30, is no professional model you understand. Far from it, she has a highly respectable job that involves her regularly standing up in court – and not as the accused, which is unusual for a regular in my local. However as soon as she learned about sploshing she was dying to give it a go.

After a few secret sessions in hotel rooms, Jenny finally came out of the food closet (larder) when she posed for her webcam in her bathroom for a man she refers to simply as Mr Crewe. Far from being intimidated, she loved it so much she couldn’t wait to tell me and wanted to share the pictures with all of you as well, so here they are.

“I used custard, yoghurt, rice pudding, chocolate sauce, choc pudding, Angel Delight, trifle, milk shake and ice cream,” she told me with obvious delight (which ought to be a a particularly brightly coloured version of Angel Delight, but sadly isn’t). “I liked the yoghurt a lot and the ice cream was fantastic. I melted it in the microwave but it was still cold and felt so good on my boobs.”

As you may have guessed from the photos, Mr Crewe is a breast man and not surprisingly in Jenny’s case. She is quite proud of them too even if her as her G-cups mean she has to spend a fortune supporting her twins. “Bras cost me a bomb!” she moaned “But I was willing to sacrifice this one for the cause!”

The only downside to her webcam splosh session was the clearing up afterwards – especially as Jenny still lives at home with her family.
“I had to make sure there was absolutely nothing left anywhere. And the smell was a bit bad, but it was definitely worth it.”

Is this really the woman I rely on to know all there is to know about world geography and Coronation Street? Apparently so… And her talents don’t end with sploshing. Team Splosh (as we call ourselves these days) has just won the pub quiz twice in a row now and more than anyone else this year including Simon and his mob (who incidentally runs a BDSM dungeon and was once on TV quiz Fifteen-to-One).
(If this sounds a bit bizarre, I should point out that as well as Team Splosh! and Team Dungeon, our pub quiz features an ex-East End gangster who pairs up with the local millionaire estate agent, the gang from the cash and carry where we buy our cake mix (who know EXACTLY) what we do with it), an ex-session musician and the local conductor guard from the Charing Cross train, and a group from the local autism home who contrary to the movie definitely aren’t ‘Rainmen’ – they never win a bloody thing).

So if anyone tells you pub quizzes are just for nerds take a look at these as a starter for ten and think what you could do with them. No prizes for the answer to that one though.

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The first six movies – over two hours of downloadable film – are available right now along with a unique chance to download a PDF version of the very first SPLOSH! magazine from 1989. All at prices between $5 and S7 (about £3-4). Bargain! On hits.sploshdownloads.com you’ll also find hundreds of pictures from the films plus a brief history of how and when each came to be made and even Director’s Tips of quirky things to look for (or try and avoid!).
So if you are new to sploshing and want to catch up on everything you’ve missed in a format you understand – or you just want to relive the days when girls had bushy hair and a hairy bush then this is the ideal place to go.
So please go and take a look…

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So that's the full menu Madam?

Bit of a miserable week for me as I was laid low with an attack of flu-bris – the hubris caused when you think you have defeated the flu and instead it comes back worse than ever. So, coughing, sneezing etc I have been stuck indoors for the last seven days except for a brief visit from Clown Julie’s comedy partner Charlie who told me all about their pie-flinging encounter with mature glamour puss, Miss Jones…

There’s only one thing disappointing about meeting Charlie. You really want him to arrive in a miniature car with every panel painted a different primary colour, which comes to a halt with a massive explosion blowing the doors off and making foam squirt out of the radiator. That’s what clown cars do. Sadly hire cars don’t and as Charlie is by day a serious scientist and he was en route from meetings in London to ’something he couldn’t talk about’ in Finland, that was what he was drivng.

After picking up one of Julie frocks and his clown shoes from the studio (as you can see from the picture above taken from their film in our downloads section you need a big car for those alone!), we popped down the pub where the ’serious scientist’ was far more impressed by the St Austell bitter that was on sale. We started to chat. Now Charlie isn’t the boastful sort, but even so conversations with him do tend to leave you feeling somewhat inferior. As if the casually-mentioned trip to Finland wasn’t impressive enough, Charlie had just returned from the Canadian Arctic where he’d been living in a tent eating such Inuit delicacies as seal eyes and raw liver (apparently they like it that way cos it’s warm and wet). I began to see why the beer was so impressive.
Entertainment was a bit short out in the Arctic as well. It was a choice between watching the Inuit TV station featuring an Eskimo Blue Peter that taught kids how to trap, skin and disembowel groundhogs or editing a film of Julie and Miss Jones getting messy on his laptop. Tough call – not!
For those who have yet to visit her website, Miss Jones is a mature model who specialises in what could best be described as 60s-style glamour (lots of stockings and sussies) who’d seen Julie at work and fancied taking part in a clown-style pie-throwing routine with her. Charlie had been asked to help shoot it and edit it in return for use of the messy bit of the film – which we hope might be coming to Splosh! Downloads in the future. Julie was doing it purely for the chance to have a pie fight with another woman!

In many ways, it went very well. Miss Jones proved a natural comedienne and literally couldn’t stop laughing all the time she was pieing Julie. She was also good at taking the pies as well, her facial expressions being exactly the comic style they both love. The only difficult bit was Charlie and Miss Jones’ photograher co-operating on the two camera shoot. Apparently this turned into a scene more like the Charlie character we know and love with them arguing over who was filming what, when to start and whether to stop. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear… It had more than an element of the Chuckle Brothers about it, especially as the cameras emitted a loud ‘bing-bong’ every time they started, all of which had to be removed in the edit. However, whilst the clowning around behind the cameras was a bit exasperating, the clowning around in front of them was extremely arousing. Fingers slipped everywhere as the two ladies got covered in creamy pie, and Julie was in messy heaven. Miss Jones seemed pretty happy too.

As I said, we hope we can bring you this film in the future, and of course more Julie adventures with Gilly, Sammy and Co when Charlie returns from whatever remote spot he is working in next. I did wonder (in light of the famous shoe bomber incident) what airport security would make of Charlie’s oversized red footwear. Perhaps he is already languishing in some jail being waterboarded by US soldiers. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…
PS Just thought of this…How can you tell an Iraqi clown? He has the only car that doesn’t blow up…

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Well for about four weeks nothing happened at all. We sent them an invoice and heard not a peep. Then two days ago we had an e-mail from the features department saying that they didn’t get the photo from our website at all! We assured them that it had only appeared (legally) on our site and UMD (where it had our copyright logo on it) and if they did find it somewhere else could they tell us so we can berate them?. No, they said they got it from an agency! A few enquiries later and we discover they are talking about a different photo!
“No, not the clean one, the baked beans one!” we protested.
A few hours later…
“Oh yes, that’s yours…”
Oh good, at last, an admission!
“So you’ll be paying our invoice?”
“No, that’s a news picture, not features. You need to invoice their department….blah-de-blah…”
So we start again.

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As I mentioned earlier in the bit you probably won’t read, Sammy-Jane came down on Thursday for a private session. Yes, we still offer private sessions when we can fit them around our own shoots, and this particular customer has been coming for years so it’s always a good laugh.
The gentleman concerned is one of many sploshers who likes to adopt a female alter ego for his sploshing activities – in this case Stephanie Tart. Steph is tall, usually dark, and today was dressed as a pink polcewoman (due to a uniform mix up at the police station – according to his carefully written scenario). Sam and I like a bit of roleplay in a session so we had great fun (her as the shoplifter WPC Tart was supposed to be interrogating, me as the off-screen Sergeant).
The story went that Sam was trying to destroy the shoplifting evidence by pouring it over the hapless WPC only to discover she’s a man. This makes Sammy even more determined to humiliate her and soon Tart is covered in eggs, custard, rice pudding, jam and pink cake mix, her non-regulation knickers filled with treacle and hair shampooed with chocolate spread. At this unfortunate juncture the Sarge appears and tells the hapless WPC to get her act together and punish the suspect or face the sack, so she repeats the process on Sammy. The scene ends with WPC telling the Sergeant that Sammy has now learned her lesson and will never do it again, only for Sam to dump a bucket of cake mix over her and flee!
Okay, you had to be there…especially as Ms Tart is one of the people who doesn’t like to be photographed or filmed except for his own use. Hence the lack of photos here. This is something we totally respect. We don’t do private sessions to plaster them over the internet. Private means private, unless you (and the model) want to share it.
We also welcome cross dressers, sissies and drag queens to join in the fun. Frankly, we love an excuse to camp it up, so don’t hesitate to drop me a line if are serious about a session.

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Sweet Sue is a regular weekend drinker in The Fountain (my regular pub for new readers) and is what can best be described as an ‘affectionate drunk’. Happily married to a man so calm and unemotional he makes Stephen Hawking look overly exuberant (and way too smiley), she likes to spend the evening drinking lager and then cuddling her friends, of which I am about fifth in line. Sometimes it goes slightly further but I’m not complaining – it’s not exactly a chore, although the small price for a bit of bodily contact is a lengthy diatribe about her week at work. Last week however I noticed she was coughing a lot and she admitted to feeling a bit odd. I made a mental note to try and resist any physical temptation as I had a busy week ahead. Unfortunately that note got lost in the wash of several pints of Old Empire, so as well as sharing all her stories from her working week by Tuesday I was sharing her symptoms.
At that point I did feel rough – hot, sore throat, cough, knackered – but nothing that couldn’t be put down to a cold. However I made the mistake of going on the NHS website which in turn sent me to the National Panic-Inducing one I mentioned earlier. “Do you have a temperature? Sore throat? Blocked nose? Cough?” it demanded. “Yes,” I replied unable to qualify it with “but not a very bad one”. “You have swine flu,” it proclaimed. “Stay at home. Get a friend to go to the doctors and pick up Tamiflu tablets. Your code number is…. Tell them to bring identification etc etc.” It was like something from those Protect & Survive nuclear attack broadcasts of the 60s. I was a casualty in the Slight Cold War!
By Thursday I didn’t feel any worse and besides Sammy was booked to do a private session at the studio so I went there, did that (see above) and since the studio is near the chemists I also decided to pick up my Tamiflu in person (I didn’t need them but as you only get one dose, I thought it best to have them ready for later in the winter when I might).
“I’ve come to pick up my Tamiflu,” I said to the middle-aged lady behind the counter.
“You shouldn’t be out!” she admonished severely and scurried away so quickly I genuinely thought she had gone into hiding, and was now cowering in some germ-resistant bunker. But it turned out she was getting a form to fill in which I did. By now, the other customers in the shop were looking at me like a plague victim, so I waited outside. As I did, I saw the assistant wiping the pen I’d used and her counter with a wet wipe! Blimey! Everything I touch is toxic!
A few minutes later my Tamiflu were brought out to me (they clearly didn’t want me back in their shop) and I took them home. I haven’t used them. I still feel a bit crap but if this IS swine flu it is milder than most colds and a lot less debilitating than a migraine. If it isn’t, then can I cast doubt on the official statistics that the number of swine flu victims has ‘leapt’ from 3,000 to 5,000 this week. I bet a lot of those are like me. Mild cold sufferers who have no way of differentiating between the two on their website.
And yes I have been a bit public spirited. I am keeping out of the pub when it is crowded which meant missing Sarah’s birthday bash last night (boo) and the Fetish Night (double boo – one for each boob!). But I shall go in for the quiz on Sunday when there are only about 20 people around. Even if I am passing on fatal swine flu, a cull of pub trivia geeks would, quite frankly, be a public service!

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Amongst the items on offer when we open will DEFINITELY be
a chance to download the very first Splosh! magazine in PDF,
Louise and Sammy-Jane’s famous food fight from Pretty Clumsy Woman (my directorial debut!),
The Making of Flanderella and a Messy Business with Louise, Luna, Sammy and Gilly,
And the best bits of Juicy Pairs.

It’s those I have been doing this week and what fun it’s been! I have many happy memories of Karen Partington and Amanda Hughes (above) doing Story Corner. The girls were exactly as they sound – Karen a scatterbrained blonde, Amanda posh and refined but also deeply sexual. They made the perfect pair (and that’s just Karen). Some wonderfully awful puns in it as well!

Then there’s the food-flinging french maids in Simply a Mess (starring Emma & Mud Donna above and below), my first ‘complete’ song! I had written short song parodies for WSM before (like Nobody Does It Wetter in WSM’ll Fix It’s James Bond piss-take), but this provided a chance to do the whole thing. Quite what the female session singer made of belting out lyrics like
“Put jam in my jugs and pour cream on my buns.
Fill my knickers with treacle and watch where it runs…”

I will never know. But amazingly the song stands the test of time, although the film of Emma and Mud Donna is spoiled slightly by Shaun (who edited it) playing with his new mixer a bit too much!

But it is hard to fault, even now, Jo Bache and Emma’s final party scene in Juicy Pairs, though Emma (above and below) seems to disagree!

Two great-lloking girls who obviously got on well having a fabulous time. It was shot the same day as all the linking material (where I spent several hours under a desk being glove puppet Randy the Rodent) which was a tricky shoot but as soon the mess came out , the girls were in their element.

And to prove it, a bit later we will also be putting up what happened after this sketch finished, when they carried on playing and cuddling regardless!

Going through the old videos shows there is loads and loads of excellent fun and funny material to bring you and we will be updating the Greatest Hits store for a long time to come. We can’t wait for it to open. I hope you feel the same.

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Tim was a perfectionist – he knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted it right then – which made him difficult to work with, I’m told, but he was always very affable with me. Sadly after his marriage collapsed, he got very depressed and took to his old friend the red wine with the result his liver packed up so spectacularly it killed him. A couple of weeks prior to that he had rung me for a chat and he was obviously in a very depressed state. I tried to help but obviously I was unsuccessful.
However, I am pleased to say that one part of the old Tim I remember has survived after his death. His sense of humour. Apparently in his will, he asked to be cremated and his ashes to be “scattered over his ex-mother-in-law’s living room carpet”. Good one, mate.
Thanks for all your help and advice, Tim. RIP

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Things did not start well! First of all the white nurse’s uniform I ordered from Ebay claiming to be a size 12 turned out to be more like a large 14 so slipping into it I was disappointed that it wasn’t a bit tighter round the waist and boobs. Now I like ‘full’ clothes for getting messy in (can’t be doing with skimpy outfits, I like the feel of wet, heavy fabric against my skin) but even so I felt this looked a bit baggy. But if nothing else it was a realistic uniform not the Ann Summers variety, though the stockings are strictly non-NHS.
So I did the best I could with it, tightened the belt round my waist and went into the garden to put my dustsheet down. Oh No! Disappointment No 2. My neighbour who is about 105 and a total recluse had suddenly decided to hold a garden party! The old sod never sees a soul – now there were about 20 people next door eating and drinking (if you’ve seen my wet pictures on the Free House you will have seen his knackered umbrella poking above the fence – well today it was open for the first time this century!). As soon as they saw me they smiled and waved, and I think I heard someone say to my neighbour how handy it must be having a nurse live next door. I was tempted to give them a flash of my stocking tops but they were all quite old – I didn’t want to cause any fatalities.
So, now, despite a lovely warm sunny day, I was going to have to do my three gallon gunging indoors! This presented two problems. Firstly where? and secondly would the camera be able to do what I wanted in flash? The first problem was easily sorted. My son has left home now and his spare room is waiting to be redecorated, so I lay my dustsheet down there. The second looked more complicated. I am no camerawoman and it took a while to find out how to take a sequence of pics on timer with flash. I thought I’d set it up right but apparently not. The clean photos were all too rubbish to use. I also discovered that you have to stay a lot stiller for flash pics for some reason. As a result, sorry no pristine uniform pics!

I opted for my bucket of pink slime first! I’d made all the gunge the night before after buying that off Ebay as well (simply look under ‘gunge’ and several people sell it, in some cases ready coloured). You mix it with about four litres of warm water, adding the water slowly and stirring a lot. And I mean a lot. I am glad I hadn’t done it that morning, it was quite tiring. I then left it in the airing cupboard next to my knickers to get warm and for the bubbles to subside so it was nice and smooth.

Even in the unsexy surroundings of my spare bedroom, worrying about the camera, I was getting butterflies in the tummy – that lovely feeling you have when you are about to be naughty. I lifted the bucket and started pouring…mmmmmm! The gunge was great. Blood temperature and thick it flattened my hair and fell over my face. I poured some more. Oooooh now it was running down my dress and without thinking I undid it to allow the slime to slip inside to my – oh! – bra! Damn! I’d forgotten to take it off, and it was a good one too! However, it didn’t prevent my nipples from realising what was going on and responding accordingly – naughty things!

Being translucent, the pink slime meant I could reset the camera without wiping my eyes, but my next colour would be more of a problem! For some reason, the blue slime – this was more of a gunge than a slime – had mixed rather more thickly. So as I went back and poured the first big dollop everything disappeared from view! Suddenly I had no idea where the camera was or when it would flash which made the photography bloody difficult!


The good news was that it felt FANTASTIC. I love that heavy feeling in my hair and over my face so I was beginning to get seriously worked up! I poured more and more, forgetting about the camera completely, rubbing it inside my uniform till my bra was soaked and my boobs superbly slimy. I think you can tell I was beginning to have some real fun now. It’s a good job there’s no sound on this blog – you might be shocked!!

It’ was then the next problem arose… One of the reasons gunge feels good is because it is so slippery. Unfortunate this then makes the floor slippery, especially in stockings and with my hands now slimed up from fondling my messy tits, getting to the camera and setting it up again made me look like Bambi on the ice. So from now on, I decided it was time to do everything on the floor – which had the added advantage of giving my stockings a lovely gooey going-over as well!

It was now the time I was looking forward to most. I love black mess – treacle, oil, you name it and the black gunge (far too heavy to be called slime) had mixed beautifully to a gorgeous glossy mass. Sod the photos – this was going over my head non-stop however shit the pictures!

And that’s exactly what I did!


Wooooooooo! It felt wonderful. My whole head was engulfed in thick black mess. I couldn’t see, could hardly hear or even breathe. It ran down every inch of me and my pussy responded at once. Suddenly I was warm and moist inside and outside my undies. The dress was heavy with three gallons of gloop and hugging my body like a wet bear I just wanted to roll around and frig myself silly, or get the dildo out and fuck myself into a stupour. The only problem was I had no idea where I’d put them and I couldn’t see a thing! Damn, perhaps a man is useful afterall. So instead, after sliding my hand inside the warm, wet confines of my knickers for a little play, I staggered of to find the camera!

Sadly I had to wipe my eyes to set up again but I still had some of the blue gunge left, so I decided it was time to let go and have some fun. I had mastered the camera on auto now, the uniform was feeling warm and wet against my body, so go for it, gal!



I poured the blue goo right over my head and that was enough. Giggling like a cross between a silly little girl and a muck-and-fuck-loving whore (which is exactly what I am!), I rubbed slime into every bit of my body, the slime-sodden clothes held me tight like the arms of of a big messy man – and one that never lets me down! I rolled in the slime, I tried to fuck the slime, I even tried to spank slime into my arse (I needed a little bit of pain right then) playing with myself all the way. It was just wonderful.



By the end, I was messy and more sexed up than I’ve been in ages. Mess can do that. It turns an ordinary woman into a slut or at least it turns this one. Right then, lying in a pool of goo, my half open clothes filled with thick slime, my hair matted and my make-up long gone, all I wanted was a good rough fuck right there in the mess.

But sadly there was nobody there to give it to me. Perhaps I should have gone next door…

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