Wednesday, December 01, 2010
A Baleful performance
I‘ve recently discovered that the actor Christian Bale is Welsh. He hides it very well, I must say. Gone are the days when Richard Burton would majestically utter the lines of a Roman nobleman in a rich Port Talbot drawl. Even the great Anthony Hopkins puts on an American accent for most of his screen roles. How much more seductive Hannibal Lecter would have been as a Welshman, beguiling the prissy Agent Starling with his sing-songy vowels and lubricious charm. You wouldn’t have blinked an eye if she’d let him nibble her tender parts.
Mr Bale’s suppression of his Welshness has not brought him peace of mind. In a recent interview with Esquire magazine, he complained that being a film star was a humiliating job that made him feel like a sissy.
“I learned there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly,” he explained.
In a way, that’s quite fitting. A shrewd observer once said that the Welsh were a nation that had nothing to be ashamed of and plenty to be embarrassed about. Yet, anyone who makes millions of dollars from showing off in front of a camera ought to be immune from such concerns. It is true that Bale has a tendency to fly off the handle and make an ass of himself, but people expect that of film stars. The hurdle of absurdity has been set pretty high ever since Mel Gibson starting channelling Mad Max.
Real embarrassment is what humans suffer when they are caught doing something totally at variance with their public image. Here are two recent examples:
• Australian rugby player Joel Monaghan is photographed simulating oral sex with a dog.
• English nurse Jayne Reed confesses to a three-in-a-bed romp with a 46-year-old man and an 18-year-old girl.
The rugby player is wisely seeking political asylum in Europe. An Australian sportsman who lets a dog sniff his groin is shown no mercy when he appears before thousands of beer-guzzling larrikins. They will bark at him until he feels like a bitch in heat. Making a dignified exit is better than being hounded out of your country.
The case of the nurse is more complex. The man and the girl were patients, so what she did was arguably a form of post-operative therapy. Even if her intention was purely recreational, one can see a method in her madness. If you’re into heavy petting, four arms are better than two, and two heads are better than one. Not being sure who was doing what might have added to the thrill.
However, one aspect of the nurse’s conduct will bring her unending lifelong shame. She referred to her bed-mates as “Daddy Bear” and “Baby Bear”, while styling herself as “Mummy Bear”. On hearing this revelation, the panel adjudicating her case groaned loudly and rubbed biscuits into their faces. A woman who seeks to enact the Goldilocks fable in her sexual escapades is sappier than a gum tree – she must be forced to suck lollipops until her tongue turns orange.
Labels: acting, Christian Bale, embarrassment, Welshmen
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Kissing whales
The manager of the safari camp is worried about a nature resort in Baja California that enables tourists to kiss grey whales.
“Full on the lips, Bananas!” he exclaimed. “Here is a picture of them doing it!”
I examined the photograph casually without feeling the slightest arousal.
“That’s very romantic,” I said, “but what does it have to do with us?”
“Can’t you see we’ll be in trouble if the idea catches on? We’ll never get our animals to kiss tourists on safari.”
“True enough,” I agreed. “They’d chew off the head of any human who tried to smooch them.”
“Unless, perhaps, you’d consider doing it,” he murmured, giving me a coy look.
“Not for all the bananas in Jamaica!” I thundered. “Do you think I’m a hairy whore who’ll kiss any human who’s ape-curious? No one gets to plant one on my lips unless they buy me dinner and take me to the movies. And besides, my females might get jealous.”
“Your females?” repeated the manager quizzically. “How about getting them to kiss our visitors? You’re always going on about how randy they are.”
“Not advisable,” I said, shaking my head. “They’d never be satisfied with a kiss – it’s all or nothing with them. You might end up getting sued for assault.”
“How about the chimps?” he asked.
“Too unpredictable,” I answered. “When they’re in a mean mood they strip tourists naked and chase them out of the jungle. What makes you think our guests want to kiss animals anyway? That sort of thing is for sentimental types who think the natural world is like a big hippy commune. We don’t get hippies in the Congo.”
“I hope you’re right,” mused the manager as he wandered off.
What do you think about this whale-kissing gimmick? Personally, I’m sceptical. Whales may be sociable creatures, but they can’t pucker their lips and their tongues are too big. I would guess their saliva tastes salty. Admittedly, a big part of kissing is the emotion involved, but do the whales even realise they’re being kissed? A human mouth probably feels like a chapstick to them. If someone told them they’d just been snogged by a human, they’d probably puke a ton of plankton in disgust.
The thorny topic of animal sex tourism reminds of a conversation I had with a Welshman while tending bar at the safari guesthouse. After downing this third glass of beer, he asked me the following question:
“If a man went to Disneyland, tied up Goofy and shagged him, do you think he would be charged with rape?”
I didn’t bat an eyelid. A bartender learns not to show surprise at anything he hears.
“If he allowed Goofy to keep his costume on, I should imagine his lawyer would be able to negotiate a plea bargain of indecent exposure,” I said.
“I see you’re a legal expert,” said the Welshman. “I’ve got a friend who could use your advice. I’ll write down his email address and a website where the details of his case are available.”
I accepted the chit without the slightest intention of contacting his friend. I’m not running a legal practice from the Congo and wouldn’t offer counsel to a Welshman of dubious character if I were. The web address will be supplied to private correspondents on request.
Labels: Disneyland, Goofy, Welshmen, Whale-kissing
