Dom's Rambles

I’ve always had something of a crisis of conscience regarding pornography. The libertarian, pro-choice on everything, part of me believes - and as a point of principle - that provided all those taking part in its production do so voluntarily (and are over the age of consent) then fair enough, let ‘em get on with it. Furthermore, if people want to shell out their hard earned for the end product then that’s nobody else’s business either. That said, I’m convinced that much of the appeal of porn - particularly the nastier stuff - is not so much sexual titillation as misogynous sadism. I do find that distasteful and it does rankle that part of my psyche which still clings to such caring sharing, interventionist, give a shit sensibilities I had when I was a pontificating leftwing twat who thought he knew what was best for everyone[1].
In my younger days I always prided myself on being able to shiver one off using no other stimulus than my imagination so questions over the morality of porn didn’t really enter the equation but as I’ve got older - and during extended pussy famines such as the current one - I’m finding myself ever more reliant on grumble flicks. To this end I recently acquired a collection of assorted filth on several CD ROMs from some guy down the pub.
As well as the moral and aesthetic considerations my reliance on bongo material introduces another worry. Given my past and present lifestyle I should be entering heart attack territory pretty soon – that’s if I’m not already there - and I live in constant fear of bringing one on as I’m bringing myself off.
What an ignominious end that would be; living as a lonely, masturbating wreck is bad enough but dying as one…?
Picture the gruesome tableau: a few months down the line the emergency services break the door down to discover my mummified corpse hunched in front of the PC, jeans round my ankles, hardened wad of tissue still clasped in one skeletal hand, desiccated member in the other, and with a twelve second excerpt from Goth Slutz Go Nutz Vol 8 looping over and over on the screen in front of me.
I just know someone would film it on their mobile and upload it to YouTube.
Still, needs must and having worked up a head of steam over the weekend, this afternoon it came time to blow the tanks. I drew the curtains, looked out the Kleenex, loaded up one of the aforementioned CDs and prepared to ‘make hand party’.

All well and groovy thus far but then Jonathan Creek star and QI fixture Alan Davies came strutting into the frame. I found this so distracting that it totally felled my timber.

All was not lost though, as Montserrat Lombard (who plays Shaz Grainger in Ashes to Ashes) soon appeared and she more than resurrected it.