In this week’s column the Cheeky Charmer faces the trials and tribulations when learning how to properly pack


I stand up from the restaurant table, the colour draining from my face. My girlfriend clocks my panic, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Leaning over the half-finished surf and turf I gesticulate wildly at my groin, hissing: “The strap-on’s fallen down my trouser leg!”

She blinks. Unsure whether to laugh or cry. Laughter wins. Thanks for that 🙄. She snorts into her wine, “Oh my god, that’s hilarious!”

Oh, it’s hilarious alright (if nearly being arrested for plastic penis exposure is hilarious!) But not as hilarious as the John Wayne walk I do towards the bathroom, terrified the huge* purple dildo, I thought was safely strapped in my pants, will make an involuntarily appearance in the middle of the Harvester.

*Ok, it was big rather than huge.

I make it, half-way before it does a death drop further down my leg and John Wayne is replaced with a “zombie stagger”. My foot’s dragging across the floor in an attempt to stop the damn dildo playing peek-a-boo out the bottom of my trousers. I swear I can hear it singing “I want to break free”. I hope it doesn’t 🤞. I’m not sure I can pass it off as an aubergine 🍆. Mainly because questions will be asked about why I’ve got an aubergine down my pants and secondly, it’s not a vegetable often found at the salad bar.

I make it to the bathroom and spend 20 minutes faffing about with straps. And that’s when it hits me (the realisation, not the dildo):

The First rule of packing club is…

(No, not “you don’t talk about packing club” – obligatory Fight Club reference)



You want to feel secure not: “My junk’s on the floor!” level anxious😱

Also, I wish people did talk about packing, it would have stopped the need for ointment (keep reading).

The Second rule of packing club is … bigger is not necessarily better.

I’m sat on the tube, legs spread, super aware of the bulge in my jeans. I’ve gone for something smaller this time. It’s sleek and discreet. The Porsche Boxster of dildos rather than a Maserati. E.g it holds the road well, is easier to handle and looks sexy as fuck.

I’ve gone for the premier league of harnesses too, laying out a sizeable amount of cash to avoid peek-a-boo moments.  

And I feel zero anxiety about someone clocking me. 

What I feel is absolute and total confidence manspreading across the seats. I feel like me.

And I’m super excited about getting off this tube and surprising Rose.

The third rule of packing club is … use a packer NOT a dildo (unless you want an interesting* rash)

*There’s nothing interesting about a rash.

As you’ve been reading my column for a couple of months now, I feel we’re at a point where I can talk about my rash (you’re welcome).

Turns out, when it comes to packing, you need to go for an actual PACKER as opposed to a dildo. You can’t be shoving any old sex toy down your pants! Dildos will chafe if worn for prolonged periods close to the skin and have you running to the pharmacy for ointment.

Who knew? Erm … anyone sensible enough to do some research before hand, CC… 🙄

And this is why the first rule of packing club should be: TALK about packing. Or rather, talk about any practices you want to know more about. It could save you a latex induced leg rash…

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