Two Indian ministers have been caught watching pornography on their iPhones during a sitting of the state legislature. Their behaviour has provoked much outrage in the country. The richer classes are annoyed that people on public salaries were horsing about in their place of work; the poorer classes are enraged about not having access to internet porn.
I hope someone tells those Indian ministers that watching pornography will make them impotent. Back in the days of Lilly Langtry, the mere sight of a woman’s ankles could make men explode with lust. Thanks to pornography, there is now nothing left on a woman’s body that incites such a reaction. I foresee a day when a foxy lady will no longer be able to seduce a man by smiling at him and taking off her clothes. Like a female gorilla, she will have to jump on his face and make him smell her glands.
When I mentioned this story to the manager of the safari camp, he affected an air of puzzlement.
“Why is looking at porn an issue in India?” he asked. “Didn't it all start with the Kama Sutra?”.
I shook my head and tut-tutted.
“The Kama Sutra wasn’t pornography,” I replied, “it was a guidebook for the cultivated man. Information and titillation are different things."
“What about tits and titillation?” inquired the manager with vulgar smirk on his face.
I wasted no more of my breath on this fatuous conversation.
The Kama Sutra does contain pictures of sex acts, of course, but men of refinement in ancient India were expected to be trained in multiple techniques. This doctrine of boudoir proficiency fell out of favour during the British Raj, when unusual sexual positions were banned, and Indian men of noble birth were taught that cold showers and flogging were the answer to everything.
Modern India continues to fret frustratedly under this baleful legacy of colonialism. The men of that country stare at women lecherously without knowing how to approach them, while bum-pinchers and gropers lurk in alleyways. The lack of opportunity for authentic erotic activity has fuelled the demand for cheap and nasty porn.
Perhaps the impending visit of three philanthropic Englishmen will console the Indians in their hour of shame and introspection. These fellows are going on a sponsored rickshaw journey across the country dressed in Spandex Morphsuits. The oppressive heat and lack of good toilet facilities will make this a feat of endurance, even though they’re being driven to their destination.
“I’m quite a hygienic person,” explained one of the motley gimps, “so living in a Morphsuit for three weeks and not being able to shower three times a day like I do at the moment – that’s quite a worry for me.”
Let's hope the Indians turn out in large numbers to cheer them on and assist them in any way possible. The men will surely appreciate being sprayed with deodorant as they bump along the hot and dusty roads. And if that doesn’t help, dousing them with cow piss should sterilize their toxic bodily effusions.
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