Paying For Sex

It’s not an easy thing to admit to.

Most people, I believe, think about doing it at some point in their lives though most, of course, will never admit to it. Of those, only a fraction will have the immoral fortitude and sufficient appetite to see it through. To realize the desire.

It’s the stigma, you see?

And possibly the cost.

Or maybe just the psychological damage.

But I figured I was strong enough. That my previous good character could not only take it but also immure me against whatever brickbats and public crucifixion might follow. I’ve never been afraid of censure.

Not where cheap laughs are concerned anyway.

So. I finally did it.

I have self-published a new book – full of brand new, unseen before material – about having sex with various celebs and famous people and you can all download it from Amazon right now and read of these incredible psyche-shattering sexploits (is it worth copyrighting that word or have others beaten me to it?) and have your erotic world-view forever widened and enlarged. Possibly even engorged.

The blurb which I have also written clearly states:

"Ever wondered what it would be like to have sex with Nigella Lawson? To doubleteam both George R.R. Martin and J.R.R. Tolkien? To have your wicked way with Miley Cyrus, Bella Swan, George Lucas, Barack Obama, Darth Vader and Kurt Cobain? To maybe engage in a little post-coital badinage with Scooby-Doo, Simon Cowell and Wonga.com? Well now's your chance to experience the gory intimate details without having to remove a single item of your own clothing, invest in a bottle of rophipnol or risk unwanted pregnancy, crabs or cooties.

"Simply purchase this handy Kindle guide and the virtual experience of sex with your favourite star will be all yours. Not to mention the experience of sex with people you'd possibly not want to touch with a disinfected barge pole (Adolf Hitler, Jimmy Saville and Jeremy Clarkson to name but a few) but feel free to skip over those.

"Purchase, lie back, read and let me hit your e-spot with the celebrity lover of your choice."

And if you are still not sold on the idea then how about this… Rather than paying for it, if you download my book within the next 5 days you can do so for absolutely nothing! That’s right; I am offering you sex with the stars for absolutely free! Zero pounds and zero pence. Utterly gratis.

You just have to leave a review.

Just a tiny review on Amazon.

And some stars. 5 would be great.

It’ll take 10 minutes of your time and possibly help make me a household name. Like Jif or Mr Muscle.

I mean, come on, guys, this is pretty much all I ever ask for. It’s not like I’m fleecing you for tonnes of cash of anything. 9 times out of 10 times on this blog I throw you a freaking freebie* and I ask for so little in return.

Just look into my big [Dan] brown hound-dog eyes and buy the bloody book will you?

Right. Done. This marketing shit is piss-easy.

Next.



*I don't do frisbees. Ever.

No Risk Natalie Portman

What does that even mean? No risk Natalie Portman? As a subject line for a spam email, I have to say, it has tempted me several times now to click on its innocent looking little icon to see what it’s all about – even at the risk of finding a huge viral payload thrusting itself into my computer’s unsuspecting orifice. But then again it does say “no risk” so maybe the senders are being genuinely open-handed and there is no virus...? Just a take-it or leave-it sales pitch which I can take advantage of or bin as I see fit.

As a hook it certainly works better than the other emails I get, the ones whose subject line is “Dear ,”. Yes, you read that right. They can’t even be arsed to extrapolate my real actual name which is probably invisibly appended to all my email data somehow anyway without me knowing. They just address me as Dear comma. How insulting. Such emails get maliciously deleted without my interest being pricked even in the slightest.

But no risk Natalie Portman...

Now that is tempting.

But what does it mean?

Are they offering me unfettered access to Natalie Portman without danger of her security gurus ventilating me with their full metal jacket slugs or tasering my testicles to the point where I ejaculate DC current? And if that is indeed the case what are the precise parameters of the access? Am I being permitted access to her undoubtedly beautiful mind and intellect or just her naked, ripe, physically-pulsing-with-vitality body?

Because much as a platonic discussion about the acting profession over a Costa latte would undoubtedly be edifying for us both I’ll take the body.

I’m a red blooded male after all. What do you expect?

And apparently it’s no risk. So I’m presuming she’s going to handle the contraception side of things and is also as clean as a whistle down there at the interactive, fully immersive, game playing end. And I take it there’ll be no unpleasant comeback either (no, that isn’t a euphemism – dirty!) – no public criticisms of my performance or selling my bedroom secrets to some scurrilous tabloid. We’re going to have a contract and everything; be nice to each other and then be nice to each other in the post-coital niceness stage as well. No mugging each other in the press. No exposés. The wife need never know. Nor my mother. Nor you. Just me and Nat sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

All safe as houses.

Except there must be some risk, mustn’t there? If you stop and think about it. I can’t be the only person getting this scintillating offer of unbridled passionate access to Natalie Portman. I bet they’ve sent hundreds of those emails out. Thousands. God. It’s no wonder we haven’t seen Ms Portman in a film for ages – she’s permanently entertaining email recipients who want to enjoy no risk adult fun with her. Well, all that no risk adult fun greatly increases the chances of risk, doesn’t it? It’s like a pyramid scheme of jeopardy. Stands to reason. Even if she showered after every rendezvous that’s a lot of, you know, bacterial risk build-up.

But maybe that’s the marketing scam behind the email? Some commercial deal with an industrial condom manufacturer? Or penicillin?

Hmm. Suddenly my pleasant evening in a love hotel with the brunette starlet is looking less attractive. The odds are suddenly stacking up away from no risk and into considerable risk. And that’s before we get into the increased chances of bumping into one or two of the other no-risk-love-jockeys either on their way to or on their way from their own private Natalie Portman assignation. That would be awkward. What if one of them was your dad? Or your boss? Your excuse of being off work with flu would hardly be validated by that experience. So now, not only are you risking an STD but also the sack. Great. Cheers, Nat. You’d have to be out of this bloody world to risk all that.

You know what? The more I think about all this the more I think this whole offer is a load of absolute rubbish. No risk? They can’t possibly substantiate that.

I think I’ll stick with the wife.

I’m not even going to think about the No Risk Oprah Winfrey email.