October 1943 and The Big 3 meet at Tehran. I was lucky to be there as a junior diplomatic officer for the Australian Government…
Winston Churchill was a colossus who bestrode the world stage as one who knew his place in history…
Roosevelt was a desiccated old fart who often was wheeled out onto the porch after a few too many brandies and could be heard mumbling to himself how that bitch Eleanor had more cunt then he would ever have…
Joe Stalin strode through the meeting like a man who didn’t give a fuck.
“I have fucked Hitler and I shall fuck both of you pussies” he is said to have told the other two leaders during one of their lengthy evening piss ups.
THE WHORES OF STALIN
Joseph Stalin has gone down in history as the man who had more cunt than any other. His harems were measured by the houseful. It was said the only ethnicity he hadn’t dipped his wick in were the Pygmies of East Africa, and that he had Russian dwarf women painted black so he could at least think he had fucked one. His entourage in Tehran of course included all his lady friends…
THE GLORY OF 40s TEHRAN
Perched at 6000 feet, beneath Mount Demavend, Tehran was in 1943 a true pearl of the Occident. Glistening streams flowed down from the mountains…crisp mountain air kept your pecker on the rise…the gorgeous eyes of Persian women followed your every move…you were King in a land of peasants…
Hashish the size of rocks littered the tables of the chief negotiators; it was said that the decision to hand East Prussia to Poland at the end of the war was made after Winny had spotted a whole gram in one hit…
In the final ceremony an obviously pissed Churchill wrenched the sword of Stalingrad from the hand of the presenting sergeant and brandished it over his head and shouted: “This is for the ass I fucked liberating Khartoum!”
(Look at Winnie in this pic. That cunt is pissed as a fart!)
The acolytes of the leaders could be seen huddled in corridors of the Castle of the Shah Reza…grateful not to be on the frontline their plots consisted of getting hashish and whores for their evening meetings…man we felt like the biggest fish out here…deciding the futures of millions after a pipe full of opium…we had god on our side.
ROOSELVELT AND HIS LESBIAN WIFE
Eleanor was a legend. And unlike her husband she could handle her brandy. Though ugly on first view she had an irresistible sexuality, especially for the innocent secretaries that flitted about the conference.
Stories spread about how once a weary FDR rolled back into his room after a particular grueling session with the Georgian tyrant to find his wife eating the enchilada of Stalin’s secretary! The groans of pleasure could be heard throughout their hotel. All poor old Franky could do was to retire to the balcony and forlornly gaze at his limp pecker; cursed to never have a fat because of his polio.
Evening came and I took time away from the Grand Conference and was taken to a local event; the stoning of an adulterous pair…the crowd of primitive Mohammedians gasped in appreciation as they finally squashed her to death...
That night I went to a club... One belly dancer had sweet sticky hash oil atop her nipples, writhing to the dervish rhythms she swayed her hips provocatively, instinctively my pecker raised, an overwhelming ache flooded my loins: could I? would I? fuck Stalin’s Persian whore?
Those last days in Tehran were just a blur…lost in haze of drugs and painful knackers…grasping for life when nearly dead…meanwhile thousands were dying every day to save us…no-one gave a fuck; all we wanted was cunt money and hash…everything was allowed, nothing forbidden…my hand slips down into my pants thinking about it now…pure politics, that’s all it was…man you should have never trusted us, we sold you all down the river…
The nights in Tehran are cold and clear. Maybe one day we will back there. One day soon perhaps.