oi! donald!

I think I've found your hackers......*

*With thanks to ‏@PulpLibrarian

criminalising kinkiness (part 2).

Not often I get to have a good old rant on here (well not about anything of importance) but I couldn't let the governments new digital economy bill pass without at least a few words.

Which is a shame but hey ho.

Readers with long memories (and glass dolls) will no doubt remember my previous moans aboutthe likes of Christopher Tookey and barmy Julian Brazier (there's more but frankly I really can't be arsed trawling thru' the links to find them) as well as the infamous ambulance chaser and buggerer of beefcake Keith Vaz regarding their thoughts that 'Explicit and extreme video games and films are fueling a tide of violence in Britain' from a few years ago and their ongoing attempts to ban anything and everything that they don't like.

Vernon: Your dad's cum face.

Obviously - thanks no doubt to my fantastic journalistic skills) - their puritanical pursuits came to naught  and we all got to live happily ever after, that is until professional witch-woman and part-time internet voyeur Theresa May came to power and decided that it was up to the government to decide what kind of sexy stuff we can enjoy.

Being more of a mindless violence than a kinky sex fan (look I have Aspergers I'm going to side with the less sticky pursuit - I hate mess) I gave the matter no thought, knowing that is that Zombie(s) Lake could in no way be construed as a sexual fetish, until that is a friend (yes I have one) pointed out that under the new legislation those occasional YouTube videos I post of me dancing provocatively whilst wearing a Howard Vernon mask could be seen as too kinky and therefore illegal.

It was at this point that my pervy pal delivered the killer blow.

Ooooer.

It seems that part of the bill is aimed at regulating things like menstrual blood, urination and 'mooth shite-ing'.

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

Yup, this blog will be well and truly screwed.

Hopefully then they'll remember to stick to the bizarre “four-finger rule” when they do it.

And what is this rule? I hear my overseas readers cry.

It's a part of the bill which limits the number of digits that can be inserted into an orifice for sexual stimulation.

No really.

We have food banks, a rise in racist attacks on the street and a country in post-Brexit turmoil and this is the most important thing our government can think about?

We are indeed drifting into an arena of the unwell.

Theresa May: Haunted beachfront cave.

For more information follow the link here, it's for The Guardian which may be a wee bit left-leaning but as a plus point the type is quite large and they don't use too many big words.

Which for readers here is a Godsend.

Talking of random film-based sex acts regular readers may have noticed that The Arena has been a wee bit obsessed with sexy seventies superstar Robin Askwith of late, culminating in me finally getting round to obtaining his classic 'Confessions' series on shiny StevieDee allowing my to confine my bulky VHS collection to the bin.

Imagine my surprise then when on going to watch them I realized I'd actually acquired the slightly inferior Barry (Mind Your Language) Evans 'Adventures' set by mistake.

Never mind I thought, It'd be a pity not to share....

Adventures of a Taxi Driver (1976)
Dir: Stanley Long.
Star: Barry Evans, Judy Geeson, Adrienne Posta, Robert Lindsay, Liz Fraser, Diana Dors, Anna Bergman, Stephen Lewis, Ian Lavender, Henry McGee, Stephen Riddle, Brian Wilde, David Auker, Angela Scoular and Beatrice Shaw.

The place: London, the time: the really unfashionable bit of the seventies where greasy haired, bowl cutted Joe North (Evans) - a busty burd obsessed (not a busty burd himself, obviously) taxi driver - spends his time using his cab as an impromptu shag palace to get away from his mundane everyday existence, from ditzy dollies to frustrated, saggy boobed bored housewives, every woman he meets seem to fall for his lost little boy charms.

And pleasant smelling cock obviously.

We first experience his uncanny (some would say ungodly) luck first hand when one of his passengers asks to be dropped off on a bridge so she can jump off.

She's heartbroken, the poor lamb.

Being a nice guy Joe convinces her not to toss herself off but to allow him to drive her home.

Probably after leaving the meter running and charging her extra tho' - you know what cabbies are like.

Upon arrival she surprisingly takes off all her clothes and jumps on our crap Casanova.

Suffice to say that just as they're about to get down and get with it (luckily for the viewer not before we've seen Evan's pale, shriveled penis), her boyfriend turns up unexpectedly leaving Joe no choice but to climb out of the window and leg it to his cab stark bollock naked.

Blimey.

He needn't have bother tho', turns out that this blokes missis is a raving nymphomaniac and uses the old suicide trick to pick up fellas all time.

Hi-fucking-larious I'm sure you'll agree.

"Oh no! It's John Leslie!"

The good thing is that all this sex is that it helps take Joe's mind of his hellish home life, dominated as he is by his moaning (but not in that way) peroxide headed mother (Dors....who wouldn't want to be dominated by her?...well not now obviously) and arguing constantly with his spotty teenage brother whilst trying to find an excuse to escape his clingy, marriage obsessed girlfriend Carol (the ball-faced, bewigged Posta, who also performs the films theme song 'Cruising Casanova').

It's not too much of a surprise then to find poor Joe finds at breaking point so he decides to move in with his best mate Tom (Lindsay).

Cue even more oh so amusing sexual shenanigans.

"Excuse me, you've shut my cock in the door".

Over the next forty five minutes we're treated (in much the same way as you treat syphilis) to a veritable comedic tsunami of sexual hi-jinks featuring faceless seventies totty and a hilarious escapade with Joe's pet python named....wait for it.....Monty.

Oh.

My.

Aching.

Sides.

"Is that a snake in your pocket or is it just
that your cock is particularly scaly and flexible?"

If this wasn't enough to get your pulse racing, down on her luck former Bond girl (and pube haired temptress) Angela Scoular gets her kit of in possibly the film’s most amusing moment (and that's not saying much) when her geeky accountant husband, who has unexpectedly come home early, surprisingly fails to notice that Joe is lying underneath his wife in a soapy bath.

Scoular: pube haired but still lustable.

Add to this the wonderful Judy (Inseminoid) Geeson playing a stripper (who scarily keeps her clothes on throughout), the comedy gem of Joe mistakenly picking up a transvestite and the bizarre last third of the film which forgoes any shagging to concentrate on Joe getting involved in a jewelery heist gone wrong and you have a movie to challenge Nativity 3: Dude Where's My Donkey? in the charm stakes.

Yes, it really is that good.

Watch out! it's Leslie Grantham.

So what else is there to say about this movie?

Well, Stanley Long's direction is, um, well it's in focus and he makes sure the camera doesn't wander off at the boring bits, whilst the 'script' co-written by Suzanne (Groupie Girl) Mercer from an idea by Long is simplistic at best, clichéd and predictable at worst.

Cast wise, the late (almost great) Barry Evans is fresh faced and agreeably cocky enough to worm his way into the audiences affections whilst Robert (Citizen Smith) Lindsay and Judy Geeson give sterling support as his best pal and best pals missis respectively.

The film also boasts a plethora of cameo's from some British comedy legends including Diana Dors, Liz (the one that wasn't in The Cocteau Twins) Fraser, Ian (Dads Army) Lavender, Stephen (On The Buses) Lewis and Brian (Last of The Summer Wine) Wilde.

Liz Fraser: The one that doesn't get
her tits out in British smut movies.
Pity.

Being kind tho' the films tiny (£130,000) budget is put to good use shooting in and around London (that's in England, Europe for any Americans reading) mostly without official permits which gives it a grittier edge than it's more famous Confessions cousins.

It's just a pity the film as a whole doesn't live up to it's guerrilla origins.

Worth a look if you like smut of a not too rude kind.

Or have a thing for huge seventies pants.

Which as I said earlier, the way it's going may soon be illegal.

dick strangelove.

...or how I stopped worrying and learnt to love the hom.

Welcome to the wackily right wing world of conservative cartoonist Dick Hafer,  best known for his controversially archaic Christian comics, where MAD style artwork sits uncomfortably alongside the most overblown anti-gay rhetoric and fascistic moral bullshit ever written.

It's enough to make Hitler baulk.



But don't just take my word for it, enjoy for yourselves:

And frighteningly enough there's more where this came from.

criminalising kinkiness.

"Anyone who doesn't agree with the new law has serious mental health issues..."
Daniel, Oxford via the BBC News website.

Your mum in your bed
whilst you were in the pub last night.

Fantastic news for all fans of Unwell style movies (oh and freedom of speech I guess) as next week sees a bill outlawing the possession of "extreme pornography" set to become law.

But many fear it has been rushed through and will criminalise innocent people not just with a harmless taste for 'unconventional' sexual practices but that the wording of the bill will also criminalise many (non-pornographic) movies too .


The campaign to ban the possession of 'violent sexual imagery' is spearheaded by Liz Longhurst whose daughter was by murdered five years ago.

It emerged that her killer had been compulsively accessing websites such as Club Dead and Rape Action, which contained (fake) images of women being abused and violated. Supported by her local media hungry MP, Martin Salter and bastion of moral decency David Blunkett, the then home secretary planned to introduce the legislation to ban the possession of "violent and extreme pornography" which gets its final reading this week and will get Royal Assent on 8 May.

Enjoy wearing masks in the bedroom?
then you're a filthy Pervert!

Until now the smut peddlers, rather than the consumer, have needed to operate within the confines of the 1959 Obscene Publications Act, but while this law will remain, the new act is designed to reflect the realities of the internet age, when pornographic images may be hosted on websites outside the UK.

Under the new rules, criminal responsibility shifts from the producer (not the musical journey that is 'Hey Mr. Producer!') - who is responsible under the OPA - to the sweaty palmed, gimp masked consumer.

Jodie shows how many
of her movies
will become illegal
under the new law.

But campaigners say the new law risks criminalising thousands of people who not only use violent pornography as part of consensual sexual relationships but also anyone that owns any motion picture that can be deemed to feature 'violent sexual imagery'.

As defined by this new bill it will be illegal to own (or produce) imagery that features:

An act which threatens or appears to threaten a person's life

An act which results in or appears to result in serious injury to a person's anus, breasts or genitals

An act which involves or appears to involve sexual interference with a human corpse

A person performing or appearing to perform an act of intercourse or oral sex with an animal

The main problem according to civil liberty groups is the use of the word 'appears' in the bill as this can be taken to mean scenes appearing in a non-pornographic, dramatic setting.

That's most of your DVD collections screwed dear readers.

Films that can fall foul of the new bill (and therefore can be seen as illegal to own) include amongst others:

Casino Royale (alongside most Bonds)
Visitor Q
The accused
Scum
Taxi Driver
Blue Velvet
Cape Fear
Evil Dead (it's been a long time since this was deemed obscene!)
Pulp Fiction

(fake) corpse sex: illegal from next week.

Some sensible MP's (yup there are a few surprisingly) are also worried about the wording of the bill. The sultry Baroness Miller said "You have to be very careful about the definition of 'extreme pornography' and they have not nearly been careful enough."

She has suggested the new act adopt the legal test set out in the OPA, which bans images which "tend to deprave and corrupt" (a wee bit like photobucket does here) but our Parliamentary masters have refused.

Mrs Longhurst acknowledges that libertarians see her as "a horrible killjoy" but replied "I'm not. I do not approve of this stuff but there is room for all sorts of different people. But anything which is going to cause damage to other people needs to be stopped."

To those who fear the legislation might criminalise people who use violent pornography as a harmless sex aid, she responds with a blunt "hard luck".

"There is no reason for this stuff. I can't see why people need to see it. People say what about our human rights but where are Jane's human rights?"
A horrible Killjoy? No. Just a grieving mother coming to terms with a deep loss by trying to find a reason for her daughters death, rather than blaming the sick individual who would have killed with or without his fetish.

Truth be told the extreme pornography sites probably satisfied him enough to stop him killing earlier, without them he would still have had the same urges just no 'safe' (to begin with) release.

How long before people realise that bad things happen without the use of films, books, photo's and specialist websites?

See?
Too much does make you go blind.

The recent jackbooted rompings of Formula 1 Fuhrer Max (son of Oswald) Mosley have served as a reminder that kinkiness is found in all walks of society.

And just as Herr Mosely is calling the revelations an invasion of his private life, so Baroness Miller says the new law also threatens people's privacy:

"The government is effectively walking into people's bedrooms and saying you can't do this. It's a form of thought police." She says there's a danger of "criminalising kinkiness".

Blue Velvet: A sick and vile film for sick and vile people.
Probably.

"How many tens or hundreds or thousands of people are going to be dragged into a police station, have their homes turned upside down, their computers stolen and their neighbours suspecting them of all sorts?" Such "victims" won't feel able to fight the case and "will take a caution, before there are enough test cases to prove that this law is unnecessary and unworkable".

Mosley: Nazi whore loving fan
of fisting (but aren't we all?).

Another opponent of the new law is Edward Garnier, an MP, skin care expert and part-time judge, who questioned the clause when it was debated in the Commons.

"My primary concern is the vagueness of the offence," says Mr Garnier, his voice cracked and worried. "It was very subjective and it would not be clear to me how anybody would know if an offence had been committed."

But the Ministry of Justice is arrogantly unrepentant, saying the sort of images it is seeking to outlaw are out of place in modern-day Britain (except when indulged in by Tory MP's obviously).

"Material which depicts necrophilia, bestiality or violence that is life threatening or likely to result in serious injury to the anus, breasts or genitals has no place in a modern society and should not be tolerated," says a spokeswoman for the ministry.

Well that's us told then.

Craig: illegal bollock beating.

Yet opponents have also seized on what they see as an ideological schism (no idea what that is but it does sound impressive, a bit like that rift in Cardiff) in the new law, noted by the brave hearted Lord Wallace of Tankerness during last week's debate in the House of Lords.

"Och, If nae sexual offence is being committed it seems very odd indeed that there should be an offence for having an image of something which was not an offence, you ken?" he said before riding off to fight the English or something.

Wallace: You'll never take
his freedom (to fuck animals).

That mad bald bloke from Mediawatch, John Beyer has been conspicuous by his absence throughout it all tho.