National Trust revamps historic dogging site

THE UK’s oldest dogging site has been re-opened by the National Trust after a £2 million refurbishment. 

Barrow Wake near Stroud in Gloucestershire became a site for outdoor copulation during the Bronze Age, when travellers would attach maroon-coloured rags to their carts to indicate they were looking for a casual hump.

It reached its peak in the 19th century in Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park, when Fanny Price explains her muddy knees are the result of ‘a jaunty bout of Frenchman’s intercourse upon the Barrow Wake with the magistrate Mr Deakins’.

But over the years its popularity waned due to underinvestment and television, until by the 1990s it was reduced to nothing more than a beautiful spot for a picnic or Sunday afternoon hand job.

A National Trust spokesman said: “Furtive sex with strangers is an important part of England’s cultural heritage and responsible for at least two of our kings.

“We’ve relaunched Barrow Wake as an interactive f**k-park, with a Seven Ages of Dogging display which has a stunning waxwork diorama of someone getting a reverse Dutch steamboat in a Mazda MX-5.

“Hidden speakers mean you are never more than two yards away from the sound of someone ejaculating, and the cafe sells locally-made chocolate fancies that look just like a man’s penis.”

He added: “Visitors don’t have to engage in sex with strangers but if they do feel the urge to be taken roughly up the dirtbox they will have an excellent view of the Malverns.”

Grade-four dogger, Martin Bishop, said: “It’s great to learn about history while getting noshed off by a sad-eyed Gloucester housewife with split ends.”

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Why Ronaldo is an arrogant bastard but Jude Bellingham has magnificent self-belief, by an England fan

RONALDO? Full of himself. Thinks about nothing but his own legend. Jude Bellingham, mouthing ‘who else?’ to camera while grabbing his balls? Just self-assured.

As a lifelong England fan, I’ve got finely calibrated instincts which allow me to discern between a showboating wanker hoarding trophies and a young man who isn’t under any illusions about his own talents and nor should he be.

Ronaldo, who you may remember from such productions as Ronaldo’s Portugal, Ronaldo’s Juventus and Ronaldo’s Real Madrid, is the former. Our own Jude Bellingham? The latter.

And last night Ronaldo, like the aging fool unwilling to accept his own decline he has tragically become, wept when he missed a penalty in extra time, the big girl. Yes, he later scored one and won the match, but barely. When will he retire?

Contrast that against Bellingham whose world-class goal in the 94th minute saved England’s Euros and so fully deserves to perform his signature celebration. Not like that vulgar ‘Siu’ business.

And so what if he grabbed his crotch? If Ronaldo had done that, it would have been base, crude and grounds for a ban, especially if Portugal’s next game was against England.

For Jude to do it? High spirits, exuberance, and the kind of look-at-my-cock-and-balls inside joke that so many of us share with good friends.

Bellingham is entitled to revel in the magic his gifts create. Ronaldo? A jumped-up prick who should go home, polish his Ballon d’Ors and stew in his unjustified arrogance.

What’s the difference? Ultimately, Ronaldo played for Manchester United. Twat.