We are all bombarded with images of vanilla fetish-lite from the cradle to the grave. The novelty wore thin a long time ago. Despite the fact that no one since Joey Ramone has ever looked good wearing black leather, mainstream culture has embraced and diluted the original alternative fashions to such an extent that even the Sugarbabes now look ridiculous. The fetish-lite majority can die safe in the knowledge that no one really cares anymore. Fetish-lite is expensive and elitist. Fetish-lite can’t dance. Fetish-lite is the sound of the suburbs.
It’s unfortunate that the trends and vagaries of fetish-lite are dictated by an egocentric circle of screeching London fashionistas. It is a non-inclusive world which has never really made much of an effort to embrace a new face. It is an evangelical church with a chip on its shoulder. Just as Grunge, Punk, Mod and Chav all became catwalk trends, so fetish-lite is now just another rubber dress hanging in Charlotte Church’s wardrobe. A very expensive rubber dress. A dress which squeaks when she sweats. A fetish-lite requires a lot of effort and very little imagination.
Similarly the British BDSM community still revolves around dormitory spanking parties and silly bits of piercings. Spanking parties are expensive and piercings will get you punctured. There are pissing parties and bukkake parties and swingers’ parties and cross-dressing parties. It’s really quite difficult to offend anyone so long as you stick to fetish-lite and always ask permission. In fact I’ve forgotten you already.
Things always change, however, when you take drugs. When a fetish grows up and starts smoking crack cocaine it becomes a paraphilia. A paraphilia can land you in court for either gross obscenity or utter stupidity. A paraphilia can get you sectioned under Mental Health laws. Essentially a paraphilia is an extreme fetish which has gone completely postal. Exactly what constitutes a paraphilia rather than a fetish has always been open to debate. Some backward religious societies still classify masturbation as a paraphilia and a sin in the eyes of a god. Personally my own definition of a paraphilia is something which makes me laugh. I literally cannot remember the last time I had a conversation with anybody about, say, bondage. I was probably asleep. Yet I will never forget the story of a German bus driver who was arrested for repeatedly trying to have sex with a pavement. If you’re going to splash out on a fantasy then you might as well find something that is completely incomprehensible to anybody else.
Obviously not all paraphilia are funny. Paedophilia and biastophilia (rape) are still two of the greatest taboos in western society. Zoophilia is just gross. Yet one person’s dementia is another’s source of amusement and so the vast majority of paraphilia are totally fucking hilarious. Paraphiliacs may well suffer from serious mental disorders and confusion but the world is a brighter, bolder and more technicolor planet for their efforts. The list of officially recognised paraphilia is endless. Most require pretty heavy suspension of disbelief but all have been classified and can be verified with statements and case studies. Below are just a few of my all-time personal favourites. Suddenly the boredom and banality of vanilla fetish-lite seems a dark age away.
A spectrophiliac is someone who is sexually aroused by spirits, ghosts, angels and other subconscious spectral entities. A ghostfucker. I’m going to open a Goth club called Spectrophilia and turn all the lights out. Then all the ghostfuckers and amaurophiliacs (people who get a boner for darkness) can meet, mingle and perv over the spooks. Actually spectrophiliacs sound pretty cute. I’d like to keep one in the basement or under the stairs. Wanting to have sex with someone who doesn’t exist, however, is probably a little frustrating. But at least you’re never alone with a spectrophiliac.
A kleptophiliac is someone who derives sexual pleasure from stealing. Like Richard Madeley or Winona Ryder. Kleptophilia is probably not the strongest defence a court will ever hear but it will certainly guarantee tabloid infamy and an invite to rehab. A chremastistophiliac is turned on by being robbed. So if a kleptophiliac steals from a shop patrolled by a chremastistophiliac security guard then mutual satisfaction should be assured. In fact if New Labour really wanted to reduce the petty crime statistics they should identify and isolate all the kleptophiliacs, chremastistophiliacs and harpaxophiliacs in one area and throw away the key. The latter get off by being burgled.
Coulrophilia is a sexual attraction to clowns. Really. In fact there are paraphilia for every circus occasion. Coulrophiliacs can watch the clowns, teratophiliacs can watch the Elephant Man, faunoiphiliacs can watch the elephants mating and microphiliacs can fiddle with the midgets. Plushophiliacs, on the other hand, fantasize about people wearing animal costumes. As the Disney corporation website so helpfully points out: live your dreams. The giant mouse is the plushophiliacs’ bitch. Walt says it’s ok. In fact the entire Disney empire is one huge porno theme park for the schediaphiliac who is aroused only by cartoon characters and costumes. A sexual attraction to clowns, however, is really no laughing matter!
Porschaphilia is a new, web-driven term used to describe people who like cars. Sporty roadsters have always been seen as an extension of the penis but porschaphiliacs like cars in the same way that Jeremy Clarkson wants to marry a Bugatti Veyron. It’s no secret that cars can be sexy. Some of them smell great. The likes of youporn and pornotube, however, are full of amateur videos featuring both sexes impaling themselves on lubricated gear sticks. It can only be a matter of time before the German car industry claims this trend as its own. Buy a BMW or an Audi and literally go fuck yourself!
A dendrophiliac is a menace to trees. Exactly why some people are sexually attracted to trees remains a mystery. It is, after all, a fairly harmless pursuit. Trees, however, have rights too. Fucking a tree without consent is essentially rape. Rape is bad. So take the tree on a date to find out if you’re really compatible. Go to the movies. A wine bar. Don’t ever show the tree your private collection of chainsaws. It’ll think you’re weird. You are weird. Tree-fucker. Actually a dendrophiliac should probably date a spectrophiliac as an excuse to go and make out in the enchanted forest.
There is no medical term to describe fans of Crush. It is, however, strongly linked to Retifism and involves watching someone stomp on small creatures and insects. Lightweight Crush erotica tends to feature women treading on cigarettes and toy cars, but the hardcore afficiados get off on watching animal snuff. Technically these films are illegal but there are message boards and chat rooms out there through which fans can swop and exchange these underground tapes. It’s pretty sick. But I fucking hate spiders. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to watch all arachnids being wiped out by a big boot.
Statuephiliacs are turned on by statues and dolls. The Japanese absolutely love dolls and not in a healthy way. If they’re not dressing up as dolls for weird conventions and porn movies, then they’re spending every waking second scouring the stores for mannequins. These dolls are then ritually named, pampered, groomed and paraded at specialist fan gatherings where everybody acts all soppy and wistful. There are even marriages. There’s something very wrong with Japanese adults. But at least statuephiliacs will never get bored on sightseeing trips because happiness is a concrete erection.
Never, ever date an apotemnophiliac. You are liable to end up without a limb. Apotemnophiliacs differ from acrotomophiliacs in that the former are sexually aroused by the idea of amputating a leg whilst the latter merely lust after the end result. So that’s ok. Safe. But I suppose an apotemnophiliac dendrophiliac would probably make quite a good gardener. Or a surgeon. Incidentally, the only reported case of self-decapitation was published some years ago in the Lancet and told the story of a Polish villager who cut his own head off with a chainsaw to prove how manly he was after a three week vodka binge. The second manliest villager only sawed off his own foot. Fools. Essentially apotemnophiliacs are pretty armless.
Eproctophilia is the sexual attraction to farts. Apparently it’s a face-sitting, smothering fetish and not the act of quietly parping after a dinner party. Although parping after a dinner party is probably regarded as foreplay. I guess a big rumbling fart is probably more satisfying then a little squeaky thing but they all smell pretty bad under the sheets. Farting is only funny when you’re three years old. Builders who fart should be electrocuted. Little Japanese teenagers who fart should sit on an eproctophiliac’s face.
Finally my absolute favourite paraphilia is the act of oculinctus. I have absolutely no idea how my partner would react if I started to lick her eyeball but I imagine the results would be painful. Apparently oculinctus is a serious fetish in that there is how-to advice published on the net and a bunch of geeky blogs featuring endless eyeball-based erotica. I would like to meet the person who discovered oculinctus. I bet he wears glasses. Eyes, people, are the windows to the soul and not the gateways to filth. Try another orifice. I suppose the only benefit to oculinctus is that you can see someone coming.
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