Monday, 14 February 2011

Get out of here

It's all over. This blog is now CLOSED FOR NEW BUSINESS.

So if you want up-to-date trains, films and filth, head on over to my shiny new blog here:

You know you won't be disappointed*.

PS: For those who like to see where they're going, the URL is:

*Provided you are easily pleased. Promise not contractual.

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Sorry to keep you...

Just a placeholder, really (but what a placeholder!), in case you thought I'd forgotten you.

Things are progressing steadily on the new blog front. Early next week remains its ETA. Probably.

Friday, 11 February 2011

Ok, where was I?

I'm sure that everyone remembers lovely, lovely Smiley-Face Man:

He is a very appropriate visual theme for this post since, I am sure, this news will make you smile (as it will, hopefully, Smiley-Face Man's less smiley friend):

I have utterly failed to make either Wordpress, Niblet or Tumblr work for me. I can't understand how they work, I don't like them, and I am not prepared to waste any more of my time trying to make a silk purse out of their stupidly anti-intuitive controls.

Is this the end of my inglorious blogging career?

Well, not quite: it turns out I have one more dormant hotmail address that I've not yet used to set up a blogger account so, with luck, and provided I can now remember the password, we may yet have another blog sometime early next week. Just remember: all good things come to those who wait (and have enough money to pay for them).

See -- it's not just Smiley-Face Man who should be happy now! Although I'd be a lot happier if I had Smiley-Face Man's email address or phone number...

Let the rejoicing begin.

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Sorry seems to be the hardest word

Sorry for the hiatus. I was trying to set up a new blog, but apparently I can't be anonymous any more and they are demanding to know my phone number before they'll let me open an account.

Since I refuse to give these evil corporate trolls access to my personal data (especially given the torrents of filth I post on these blogs), I'm now stuck.

So it looks like you may not after all be benefiting from any more LeDuckery. Unless you have an alternative suggestion, of course...

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Au naturel

They are so rare in gay porn world that I always find it completely thrilling when I see a more generously proportioned nude model:

This chap has appeared in a couple of naked photoshoots, showing us his delightfully natural but unquestionably well-upholstered body.

My only complaint would be that he appears to have succumbed to the evils of pubic hair trimming, which undermines a little the gloriously sexual naturalness of his deliciously lickable form.

But that's a minor quibble. He is magnificent. Manly and magnificent. I want to eat him all up.

Matinee idol

Off to the National Film Theatre for Cary Grant in Howard Hawks' 1948 film I Was a Male War Bride.

All-American star Cary Grant (actually Englishman Archibald Leach) was immensely tall, extraordinarily suave, and always, always played himself. It was a class act.

In this film he is, nominally, Captain Rochard, a French Army economics expert.

He and his US Army driver, Ann Sheridan's Lt Gates, bicker like an old married couple and seem to hate each other when, of course, they are, as we know, destined to fall in love and live happily ever after.

But first they have to get there, and despite being immensely funny this is really a bleak, dark film about how the bureaucracy of the state grinds down every man, no matter how noble and decent, into a cog in the bureaucratic machine.

As the film progresses we see Grant's powerful, independent man forced into ever more cramped and physically unsuitable spaces (from an absurdly tiny motorcycle sidecar to uncomfortable wooden chairs and to bathtubs which must serve as beds):

This makes it sound too worthy. It is, above all, a delirious (and late-flowering) screwball comedy, and Grant's enforced female impersonation is one of the highlights of cinema:

He is not, by any means, a pretty woman, so his act stands in sharp contrast to what Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis would achieve a decade later in Some Like it Hot.

Cary Grant: he was some kind of a man.

Monday, 7 February 2011

Now, where was I?

Thank you very much for your feedback to my last post.

You have given me much to think about, hence a slight hiatus while I engage in some navel-gazing:

[No, of course that wasn't me.]

I feel positively bathed in praise, now...

One of the key questions is this: should I break free from the chains of Blogger and strike out with a new host? Wordpress strikes me as having too many disadvantages unless I pay, and, frankly, why should I pay so that you get loads of free porn?

Equally, I don't believe anyone should make money from other people's work, so my only justification for continuing to, er, re-post material here is that no-one makes any money out of it, including the host.

But I continue to weigh up the options:

All, of course, while I wonder whether this is the time to seize the moment:

Yeah, that's all getting a bit laboured, so let's take a break and enjoy this pair of photographs featuring two brothers -- first up, the older:

Second, the younger:

Aargh. Too much stuff. I need to go into a quiet corner and just let my mind wander...

[I love that portrait. Especially the blue nose.]

In that corner I will let my mind contemplate relaxing, lovely things...

Whereas, outside, tumultuous scenes are occurring:

Oh, how I love this sequence, with his pale, milky-white flesh exposed for us...

... his floppy wee winkie bobbing about in the unaccustomed air. Utterly delightful...

Hm. Maybe I'm not yet ready to call this quits. Let's think on...

Saturday, 5 February 2011

Ok, it's all over. Again. Or is it...?

That's utterly absurd. I've now used 99% of the photographic allowance available for this blog.

For God's sake, I've only just moved in here! Just 4 months. I can't believe it's time to draw things here to a close. How on earth did that happen?

So it's once again the traditional end-of-blog time when I ask, in the name of all reason, whether or not we're all mightily fed-up with this same old hodge-podge of tiresome old bobbins, churned out to the same old predictable formula, day in, day out... I mean, come on: we must all be getting bored of this by now, mustn't we?

So that's the question: shall I start my sixth blog (fucking Hell. I mean, really: sixth!)? Or is it not time to modestly withdraw, leaving the field free for some other up-and-coming whippersnapper to charm you with their wit and wisdom?

Or should I do a blog on a completely different theme? In which case ideas for themes would be gratefully received...

Thoughts, comments, ideas?

Going Hungary

A reader has not unreasonably complained about the recent appalling shortage of trains on here. In mitigation I was drafting a post on the Hungarian V46...

It turned into quite a long draft, exploring the early history of electric locomotives from Siemens to Westinghouse and then via Newcastle and Paris, with diversions into Italy and, as it then was, Czechoslovakia.

The Baltimore & Ohio Railroad's electrification of its New York City approaches was also strongly featured, along with the British Thomson-Houston company and Brush Engineering.

Unfortunately, the post had swelled (just like everyone attending a ten year high school reunion...), getting out of all proportion and, indeed, beyond the realms of sanity.

In despair I abandoned it and reverted to posting pictures of cocks, something I am very comfortable doing and which most of you seem to appreciate.

But I figured I could still use all these delightful images of Hungarian V46s going about their business in, er, Hungary.

And at the same time as me whining on, we get another post about trains. Ain't the web amazing?

Art with a capital "Ah"

I am currently obsessed with Deviant Art, and who can blame me when, lurking there, are extraordinarily good images like this one:

I could spend hours contemplating him, but if I did I'd miss out on this chap:

One of that photographer's pieces featured on here the other day, but this next image is the first appearance for this naughty self-portraitist:

I love that hint of a perky winkie. Very tasty.

Ok, let's go in-depth now, with a trio of naked self-portraits by another talented chap:

I love, love, adore this next image, although I so wish he had not shaved his pubes. Why has he done that?

Here he is again, showing delightful wisps of chest hair but, alas, still no pubiary:

With a slight sense of disappointment let's leave him behind and move on to this stunningly attractive guy, here making some sort of Celtic/earth-ish/hippy/New Age portrait in his bedroom. God, he is staggeringly good-looking:

But there is even better to come from him.

Because it turns out he's a bit of a hairy hotty and, in the second image of the pair, we get to see his luxuriant chest hair (albeit annoyingly trimmed), plus great big tufts of treasure trail hair, hinting magnificently at the exuberant hotty hairy goodness that, alas, he has seen fit to shave away:

No cock shot from him, but I can honestly say I am not disappointed. Magnificent.

Let's end with a bit of Art:

A rather poetic expression of the dilemma at the core of the human condition, wouldn't you say; that duality between me and other, between being a social animal and an independent entity. The problems of consciousness and all that. No...?

Japanese Ghosts

Utterly absurd, of course, and firmly of its time but, still, somehow, it gets under my skin a bit:

One of them died recently (possibly the drummer). I was never a fan of the group and I'd be hard-pressed to name any other song. But this one is rather resonant. Whoever you are, thanks and RIP.

What am I to do?

My personal road to Hell is, indeed, paved with good intentions.

I sat down at the computer intending to put together half a dozen witty and exuberant posts featuring a variety of cocks, architecture, cocks, trains, cocks and films (plus films about cocks), but I got side-tracked.

Before I knew it, Friday had segued into Saturday and I hadn't done a single post.

So you get this fistful, cobbled together from some old leftovers, mostly on a theme of falling down (Geddit? Do you geddit??).

Cue: the last image and further puns (some in questionable taste) about falling asleep on the job or being a martyr to my blogging.

Although, now I come to review it, I think that's an entirely satisfactory post. More than enough for any reasonable man/porn hound.