I’m ten days in and Dry July has me cooking some serious Bacon. Lucia Giuffre was the first to donate so she receives the first Kevin Bacon artwork. My Dry July team mate is award winning playwright: Jessica Bellamy. Jess is offering to write fan-fiction for every donation she receives. When Lucia donated to both Jess and myself she requested Jess and I collaborate on a Kevin Bacon/slasher fan-fiction creation involving David Attenborough and the underground cave systems of Mexico. The story is pretty saucy, I’m not going to lie, I haven’t been this aroused since I met Richard Wilkins at the boner factory.

Meanwhile, Dry July may be helping me raise money for adults living with cancer but goodness I REALLY WANT A BEER! I had an alcohol free beer yesterday, it was like renting out Death At A Funeral and realising it was the bullshit American remake with Martin Laurence. WHY DID THEY REMAKE THAT MOVIE?! IT WAS ONLY THREE YEARS OLD AND IT WAS ALREADY IN ENGLISH.

Anyway here is the erotic fan fiction that is helping raise money for cancer:

ACHIN’ FOR BACON

David Attenborough had never had such a small tour group.

Normally when David Attenborough ran his dedicated ‘no customer leaves unsatisfied’ tours of the intricate underground cave systems of Mexico, his tour group was filled to the brim, leaking and bursting with desperate, over-keen fans, all of them trying to bring in extra family members and lovers, all of them dying NOT to miss out on the great Sir David’s  100% satisfaction guarantee.
Sir David loved running these tours. He loved the thick bushy entrance to the cave’s inner recesses. He loved the long dripping stalactites that littered droplets of cold liquid over his upper lip, and brought out sweat on his wrinkled forehead.

The Mexican underground caves begged him, every day, to come inside them and explore.

And explore he did.

But today was puzzling because instead of his usual thrumming, jostling, over-eager crowd, there was just one man. One cool, calm, collected man, acting as if this excitement was no big deal at all.

It was Kevin Motherfucking Bacon.

He stood tall and proud in his double denim. He brushed a hand through his wavy brown hair. His eyes were sharp blue, an azure like the gushing lakes of the inner rivers of the cave they were soon to explore. And I do mean explore.

David moved forward to say hello, one arm outstretched, and Kevin pulled him into a firm, manly, loving hug.

He smelt like cinammon and glory.

“Hi there,” said Kevin, softly into David’s ear. “You might wonder why I’m all alone here today.”

“Yes, I did wonder,” mumbled David, willing away a burgeoning semi.

“You see, I’m studying for a role in my next blockbuster film. The character is a guy who does a personal tour with David Attenborough. And then has sex with David Attenborough.”

David bit his tongue in surprise.

“And also…” Kevin continued, “I hope this won’t alarm you, Sir David. But I am a method actor.”

And that was that. The tour began.

They explored the caves together – all sorts of beautiful caves. Warm and dark caves, with long leaking stalagmites and certain recesses that were very stalac-tight, and they lay each other down on the banks of the longest flowing river in all of Mexico. It was so blue, and so warm, despite being metres underground, and the two very different men held each other tight, and they touched doodles, or however gays like to do that sort of thing because I skipped those lessons in Year 10 PDHPE, and Kevin fully, AND I MEAN FULLY, inhabited his character.

And Sir David had a pretty good time too.