A crossdresser asks – Are you into Greek?

Well now, where to start? Let me put it this way, I am from England. Where the history comes from. And where I come from we have a certain cultural threshold. We learn Greek mythology in school.

Or at least we did. These days it’s probably considered elitist. Along with confidence, having civic values and a sense of national pride. But either way, we have this in built radar that comes on when we hear pseudo (that’s a Greek word, by the way) intellectuals spout Greek names – particularly if they are not English pseudo intellectuals. It clicks on and a siren goes off in our heads along with flashing red letters saying ‘FRAUD’.

My radar clicked on recently when the name of a NASA space craft quite suddenly seemed to be on everyone’s lips. Artemis. Everything now is ‘Artimis’ this, and ‘Artimis’ that.

Hang on a moment. Let me tell you a little about Artemis. And to make it more interesting, to me at least, I will myself play the role of Artimis to illustrate the point. Picture me naked. Tall, hair falling over my classically ample breasts. Yes, a fine figure of a Greek Goddess, all smooth skinned and with a bust that looks like it was chiselled out of marble. Well, we’ve all got to have a reference point.

Beside me are my lovely Greek garments, lying on some warm stones beside a forest lake in which I am bathing. Sunlight dapples the surface of the lake as I walk into it slowly, wavelets radiating out from my form as I proceed, a vision of grace and beauty. The water is cool, and as any goddess worth her salt is inclined to do, I have walked slowly into the pond till waist deep, the dark waters cooling my body from the warm summer sun.

Artemis – one stone cold bitch of a goddess.

Oh, the luxury of it. My hair slick and wet, the water caressing my skin, and my breasts pert and firm, the nipples erect in the fresh cool clear waters. As I lay back and feel the refreshing movement of water over my soft skin something catches my eye. A movement. Could this be another godly creature come to join me? Perhaps that curious new goddess Tracy, goddess of Essex girls, come to explore those unnatural urges she has been experiencing recently? But, no!

A rustling in the undergrowth. Is that a mere human? Oh, my stars. It is! A hunter has seen this godly body in all it’s glory. And in my case he really would be confused. But who could it be, I hear you ask, as well you might. It’s that Actaeon, some hunter up from the village to come out hunting with his damned dogs, a vicious bunch of curs they are too, slobbering everywhere.  And a brutal sport it is, hunting defenseless deer and setting the dogs on them.

As I swim naked in the forest lake, this perv is watching me like some sort of beta incel. As much as I try to cover  my body, I cannot mask the shame I feel in my beautiful nakedness.

Well, I think you can imagine this isn’t my idea of how to take a lovely naked swim all on my lonesome. Incidentally, I’m drawing on what Lenni described as her experience on a workshop on a remote BC island recently. Those of you who listen to Lenni and Jules know who I’m talking about.  Anyway, Lenni was swimming around like a mermaid in the moonlight some nights completely starkers in good Canadian fashion, and I had the pleasure of a running commentary.

Getting back to me swimming in a forest lake, there I am, and this filthy incel perv starts watching me from the bank. I think you can imagine, as a Greek goddess I’m not going to let this pass lightly. And this is where I start worrying a little about NASA’s choice of nomenclature. You see, as much as these early steps into space seem to be all about enlightened exploration and peaceful curiosity, then why name one of these missions after someone like Artemis. I say this, because when Artemis learned she was being spied upon by some pervert on the shore, she did something few would classify as either peaceful or enlightened.

Artemis immediately turned Actaeon into a stag and whipped his dogs into such a frenzy that they turned on their former master and ripped the flesh from his body, feasted on his liver as he screamed and begged for forgiveness, and then gorged themselves on his flesh as he died in excruciating agony witnessing the vile sight of his own carcass being slowly consumed by his loved dogs. One can’t help but think that, if some alien race has access to the internet, they’re going to be mighty interested in the fact that we’re naming our space craft after such ethereal entities.

The new Artemis Vibrator from NASA. Satisfaction is far from guaranteed.

I have a bit of a problem with space exploration, to be honest. While I am a total trekkie and can name the five types of propulsion of an Intrepid Class starship, the prospect of fat rich white people flying around the solar system seems to fly in the face of good taste to me. Each time I see a rocket blasting off I have to wonder if our atmosphere isn’t already hot enough without these extra carbon emissions. And worse than all that, the space suits! I mean, really. White? No one looks good in white! And those boots. A heel wouldn’t hurt.

But all that aside, is this really the moment? After all, democracy is on the slide, we’re watching Russians kick nuclear power stations in Ukraine just to see what happens, inflation is on the rise and Trump… Well, just bloody Donald Trump! Hadn’t we better spend a little more time sorting things out down here for a bit?

I hope you’re having a blast off of a week. Unfortunately my spies are telling me that Artemis might not be going anywhere this weekend after all. Not to worry. We can dream of feeding incel perves to hunting dogs as well down here as we can on the moon, in true human style. After all, we come in peace, right?


Did they leave a number?

Well, what can I say. It’s not been an easy week. As many of us go into an election week, I know all of us are going to be feeling a certain degree of stress. Be assured I am here for you.

I always find it helpful to listen to the Fiona Dobson playlist on Youtube to dispel stress. It really does help put a smile on my face, even when I do read about something mind bogglingly moronic that the buffoon in the White House is up to. I believe it was Mayo Angelou, that great philosopher that said, “Mask up, asshole.” That, however, is not the main reason I’m writing to you.

Several of my members have written to me this week concerned about my good friend Rainbow, the yoga teacher, who has recently found herself out of work due to the problems we face associated with Covid. I selected one email at random, from Mildred, of Colorado Springs, that I felt I might share with you. Mildred suggested that perhaps Rainbow could make use of her talents as a vegetarian, helping others improve their diet. How very thoughtful, Mildred. I will pass the suggestion on to Rainbow. Vegetarian meals can indeed be an exquisite blend of flavors and are sure to excite the taste buds and satisfy the appetite, unless you’ve ever actually tasted meat.

Fortunately SebastianSylvesterAli and the rest of the crew are all managing ok. Amanda, my wife’s good friend, has moved in with my next door neighbor Marjory, with whom she is conducting a sordid lesbian relationship. She is working from home there, and I mentioned to Sylvester (who has designs on Amanda for some inexplicable reason), that I often saw her in the conservatory beavering away. He replied “Amanda is indeed elbow deep in,” and at this point he paused meaningfully, “…work.”

What times these are. Nonetheless, I felt I would write and tell you of a rather unusual incident that took place the other night. As you may be aware Canada is large. In fact it’s huge. Earlier this week I was driving across one of our seemingly endless prairies, late at night when I saw mysterious lights in the sky, approaching at high speed. At first I thought it might be our Prime Minister, my good friend Justin Trudeau in his private plane. He has the disturbing habit of flying very low over the prairies, smiling and waving at us as he goes by. You may have heard of him, he’s the head of state in the North America that can read.

However, it was not he. I should have remembered he’s usually tucked up in bed by 9 pm with a cup of hot milk. No, this was altogether too fast to be something of this world. 

Now, I think I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, not again!” Yes, that’s right, you’ll remember I had an encounter with alien life forms a little over two years ago. And indeed once again this vessel drew level with my speeding Buick, and I felt the sensation of being lifted off the ground, as if by a giant alien hand.

Faster than you can say ‘anal probe’ I found myself in the hold of the enormous vessel. Two alien figures dressed in a silver grey fabric, some type of satin I imagine, walked out of what seemed to be a wall of light toward my car. I was a little disconcerted, as you might imagine. After all it’s not everyday that you are accosted by higher life forms. One of them tapped on the window, and as I looked at them I realised these were the very same two aliens I had met once before.

I put my mask on, and then lowered the window.

The closer of the two aliens leaned toward me and then said, “Excuse me madam, are you the owner of this vehicle?”

“You know I am. Remember, we’ve met before.”

“Just my little joke,” he said with a smile. His sense of humor had not improved in the two years since last we met.

The closer of the two aliens turned to the other and said, “I told you, we’ve seen this one before.”

They seemed to pause for a moment, consulted what looked like an Ipad, and then one shook his head in disappointment, before saying, “Well, let’s get on with it, otherwise we’ll never make the quota.”

Ever helpful I said, “Are you running out of people?”

The nearest alien nodded, and said. “It’s this Covid business. No one’s going out much these days.”

“Well, it’s not like you ask permission,” I said.

“No, but when we pick up someone off Davie Street in Vancouver, and they’ve had six pints of Alexander Keiths everyone just thinks they had a good night at The Junction. No one believes they’ve really been abducted. You know, plausible deniability and all that. But these days,” he shook his bald head, “not so many people are going out for the night. That’s why we have to hang out in the middle of nowhere.” At this point he turned to his friend and said, “I’m not even sure where we are!”

I sighed and said, “Covid.”

In agreement he nodded and sighed, “Covid.”

The senior alien, clearly impatient, then chimed in, “would you mind getting out of the car please?”

I stepped out of the car, and the two of them led me into a small examination room. Instead of the surgical table and lights that one expects in these circumstances, I was placed in a reclining chair and the first alien asked if I would be kind enough to read the letters on a lightbox directly in front of me.

“A, F, G, H,” I said and then asked, “is this it? I mean, you’re giving me an eye exam?”

“Please just read the letters,” said the one that appeared to be in charge.

“M, S, X, no, really is this it?”

The second alien cut in at this point and said, “They don’t let us use the probe any more. They said it’s not politically correct. Something about it not being ‘woke’, whatever that is.”

“Well,” I replied, “it’s not like you ask for consent, is it?”

“We didn’t get many complaints in this sector. At least not on Davie Street.”

“No,” I said. “You wouldn’t. You might get a few people disappointed that you didn’t at least leave your number after you’d finished.”

At this point the first alien smiled at me and said confidentially, “who said he didn’t,” and then winked.

Anyway, I felt I should share these events with you. Now, if you’re in the US be sure to get out and vote as soon as you can. If you don’t live in the US, let’s wish our friends’ the best for their election.



I don’t want to have to beat off any aliens.

I’ve found a good way to maintain social distance and still be able to communicate with Sylvester and the various welcome, and less welcome, visitors to my house.  I sit at the kitchen window and chat through the window, while they sit outside with their own coffee mug.

I am not paranoid, but we’re learning to live with social distancing in a responsible way here in Canada. We respect the rules around isolation, because we’d like to get things back on track at the soonest reasonable opportunity. I know people’s views on this vary. This video accurately shows how easy it is to pass on a virus, and we take it very seriously here.

“I’d like to get out to a pub,” said Sylvester. “A glass of Alexander Keith’s IPA, with beads of condensation on a warm spring evening would go down pretty well.”

Continue reading “I don’t want to have to beat off any aliens.”

Do I get the anal probe now?

As you know, North America has many long and empty stretches of highway. I was driving across one such lonely landscape very late at night recently, when something a little out of the ordinary happened. I really feel I should share it with you.

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It must have been shortly before 2 am when I noticed some strange lights descending from the sky in my rear view mirror. They silently approached at great speed, and then pulled level with my vehicle and held station just beside me. At first I thought it might be the new Tesla my good friend Elon mentioned to me over tea last week. He’s such a practical joker, you really never know what’s coming next. Sylvester and Elon often get together to prank some poor sap, and I was wondering if perhaps this was what was happening. I was, however, quickly disabused of this notion as the lights rose above my car, and the ground seemed to fall away from beneath me.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “That’s not an upgrade they offered on my new Buick!” And I agree with you. GM needs to get in the game!

I found myself sitting in my car, in the interior of what appeared to be a large empty cargo bay. A moment later two (they always travel in pairs) humanoid figures appeared and walked up to the side of my vehicle and tapped on the glass.

I lowered the window and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” the taller of the two replied in perfect English. “My I use your phone?”

“Well, that depends,” I replied, doing my best to retain my composure. The rather neat little black dress I was wearing was a little formal for the occasion, I felt. But better to be overdressed in these situations.

The second alien, giggling, held two of his three fingers up to the side of his head and said, “E.T. phone home.”

“You’re a bit out of date, aren’t you?”

The first alien cut in, “Sorry, it’s just an alien joke. We do that sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t think your home planet is included in my calling plan. Perhaps you should try Virgin. I think Richard has some connections,” I replied sardonically.

Becoming a little more serious, the first of the two aliens continued, “I wonder if you could help us. We’re here on a fact finding mission. We’re trying to learn all we can about the very best of humanity, and the very worst.”

“How very laudable,” I commented.

The second alien picked up my sarcasm, and turned to his friend and said, “Can I get the anal probe now?”

His friend continued, “We’ve seen the best already. We’ve been to the Nobel Institute, the United Nations, The U.S. Congress, and something called “The World Cup Of Soccer”. Now we have to find the other side of the story, the worst the earth has to offer.”

“You mean you’re looking for the most craven, hypocritical, spineless and morally bankrupt people of the planet?”

The two aliens looked at one another excitedly. “Yes, that’s exactly right,” said the taller of the two.

I replied calmly, “But I thought you said you’d already been to the US Congress…”

The second alien looked steadily at me and said without humor, “Can I get the anal probe now?”

That, however, is not the main reason I’m writing today. I wanted to touch very lightly on the subject of pride, hypocrisy and general wrong headedness, hence the reference to Congress. We hear a lot these days about ‘TERF’ ideas. These are ‘Trans Erasing (or exclusionary) Radical Feminist’ ideas. I’ve been asked several times lately to comment about this, and what I think about it. While I acknowledge that some people don’t consider someone who has gone through gender reassignment surgery to have become a ‘real’ member of the opposite sex, I think this is to lose sight of the bigger issue. Some even consider those that do go through complete gender reassignment to have betrayed the LGBTQ cause. My opinion (for what it’s worth) is we should allow people to be who they wish to be — regardless of birth gender or subsequently assigned gender.

We can be exactly who we wish to be, and we can live with that — and we can let others live with that too. Those who climb on a soap box and impose their strict ideas on society are invariably pompous and self centered, whether they’re spouting right wing hate speech, or their own twisted version of feminism or some bent liberal thinking. We don’t need anyone to tell us how to think, we just need to let go of the rigid ideas and hold our own truths. If they work for us, then that’s great. Just don’t try and impose those ideas on others. And to be fair, I don’t expect the whole world to agree with me — and I’m just fine with that.

It is a remarkable fact that within the LGBTQ world Gay and Lesbian issues have been championed vociferously. Trans issues are rather a different matter. They are poorly understood, and almost the orphan child of a movement in which they have become strange bedfellows. And on that rather interesting visual note, I will leave you.

I’m ready for my probe now.



WRITTEN BYFiona Dobson

Holding a mirror up to the world, and then applying a rather fetching shade of lipstick. The crossdressing blog you’ll love! http://FionaDobson.com