Written by Skoob1999
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Topics: Sex, Bicycle, Victorians

Monday, 21 February 2011

image for Pooner - The True Origin Of The Word Finally Unearthed
Utterly Useless To A Pooner.

The modern urban dictionary defines a "pooner" in a number of different ways, but a lexicographer who frequently makes use of the Bodelian Library in Oxford has turned the closeted world of lexicography completely on its head.

Clem Baker, of Abingdon insists that modern lexicographers have misinterpreted the true origin of the word pooner, by mistakenly declaring to the world that a pooner is some kind of enthusiastic sexual explorer, whereas the reality is quite different.

Mr Baker explained that the mistaken definitions arose when inexperienced lexicographers confused the term pooner with the Americanism 'poontang.' He went on to say that he could have sworn that he read a definition of the word in a 1976 edition of Men Only magazine, and that he has researched the definition ever since because he is incurably pedantic.

Mr Baker explained, that far from being a priapic fanny rat, or a wall scratching, pillow biting nymphomaniac, a pooner would usually have lived in Victorian England, and that far from being a sexual predator (for pooners are indisputably male) the pooner would have been a shy retiring type. Sexually frustrated. Unable to form a lasting relationship with a member of the opposite sex.

Mr Baker explains:

"Pooners were usually intensely sexually frustrated Victorian youths. Being unable to form lasting relationships with overdressed Victorian ladies, the pooner would typically seek sexual gratification by hiding outside post offices - or similar establishments - until such time as a young Victorian lady cyclist parked her bike outside, and entered the establishment. Whereupon, the pooner would spring out from a position of concealment, and voraciously sniff the young lady's bicycle saddle. To all intents and purposes, the pooner achieved a high state of arousal, and almost instantaneous sexual gratification from the act. After completion of which, the pooner would once again conceal himself until he got his second wind, and another Victorian lady arrived and parked her bike. Although, to be honest, I can't for the life in me understand why they didn't just congregate outside the fishmonger's shop. It would have been a lot less bother."

Reddon Ink apologises for the explicit content contained within this news item, but lexicography can be a pretty murky world in which to dabble.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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