My corruption is in progress

I went to see Russell Brand at the Roundhouse last night. I don’t think I am a prude. I really don’t. Inexperienced and with simple tastes, but prudish, no I don’t think so. He’s a funny man. A dinky, skin-tight all black clad, messy haired man with rootin tootin boots. The population of the world who has heard of Russell Brand, I assume has also heard about his sex addiction. A large part of his act is about that - very graphically so. I don’t mean a visual of his bits, no indeed not, but an energetic display of how he goes about his sexual business. With many, many details that perhaps my mind was unable to process fast enough to laugh. When it comes to pornography (I really didn’t intend that pun) I am almost virginal. Of course I’ve seen some, but not very much and most of it pretty standard.

Apart from his own sexual tales – apparently he will shag anything that his human, female and still breathing – he did enlighten us about other acts of deviancy. One such act is called “seagulling”. Now, I know I am not the only one to have not heard of this, because I asked around! Allow me. It’s when a boy, usually in a school environment but not limited to this, ejaculates into his hand and flings it into the face of an unsuspecting passerby. Grim.

As happens when you are alerted to something, you begin to notice it around you. And so today, when I was running mindlessly on the treadmill, music blaring at me to keep going because one day it will be worth the effort, I looked out of the window at the activity on the street below. My eyes wandered over the Christmas market marquee set up in the very sad excuse for a square, over the working people out on their lunch breaks, the mothers with their infuriating lack of pram-driving skills and/or consideration, into the shop window of ______. Therein, a school boy was looking out, his friends milling around the shop behind him. I was about to move my eyes along, trying to soak up as much of the outside world as I could, when I noticed that his movements were a bit, well, odd. I went back to the window and looked a bit more closely, only to see that he was in fact rubbing himself, rather frenetically. ‘Himself’ being a euphemism for ‘his penis’. See how bold I am becoming? With my new found knowledge I allowed myself to speculate, with a certain worldly-wisenessness, that perhaps the shop assistant was to be the unsuspecting recipient of something very unwelcome.

Everything in my world was so pretty before this. Russell bloody Brand.