Up the Arts

You can barely even switch on the computer these days without the headlines screaming at you:

  • Amateur Anal Sluts

  • DP Anal Teen Threesome

And, of course,

  • Deep Anal Surprise.

While each new arse revelation may be profoundly shocking to many, they mark a sea change in the public perception of the backside area generally and the bum hole in particular.

Bums are big right now and only set to get bigger.

Some may ask, when faced with today’s anal obsession: what ever happened to courtship and honour? Who now believes in rectal chastity as an abiding virtue? And does anyone know how to set my front page back to Google? Only I think there‘s some kind of virus on the machine and I don’t want my wife, kids or the PC World service desk to think I’m obsessed with bum sex.

[For the record, I only clicked a single link once ever and that was just for researching this article which is clearly in the public interest [in bum sex]. And okay, maybe I did have a wank when I got there. Or two. One or two wanks, but definitely no more than three.]


For most of human history, bums were hidden away under skirts and suits and sensible cotton M&S panties, and G-strings, and crotchless nylon lingerie, or under tights, and even sometimes no panties at all. The posterior was once no more openly the object of desire than an elbow, say, or septum. Bums took a back seat- quite literally- to a magnificent tit on the one hand and, and on the other, another magnificent tit.

But just when you thought they’d gone away for good, bums are back and more peachy than ever. Box office smashes like “Amateur Anal Tryouts” give hope to millions that a success at amateur level could well lead on to lucrative professional bumhole gigs. In a world where people are paid vast fortunes just for pooing could things really get any more terrifyingly sordid?

There once was a time when dancing cheek to cheek was about as far as most courting couples dared take things. A true gentleman’s first and only duty was towards the protection of his sweetheart’s reputation and even holding hands seemed daring. Unless he was with a prostitute. And yet to modern society “dancing cheek to cheek” is more likely to be code for a home-made cameraphone movie of “ass to mouth” action far wilder than anything Irving Berlin could have dreamt of [unless he had a particularly dirty imagination].


Back then, “Kiss my arse!” was an insult levelled at those one had nothing but contempt for. These days, sampling others’ arse germs is viewed as an everyday activity, such as posting a letter say, or buying a newspaper; yet is behaviour that would have made our ancestors heave up big chunks of sick.

Mind you, they didn’t have much in the way of plumbing or soap, let alone toilet paper.

So there is that.

For modern lovers raised on a steady diet of internet grot, being locked in a mutual ass-to-mouth embrace is the noblest of human pursuits. All is contented satisfaction unless and until somebody farts or thinks “Wait,- I’m doing what?”

It is doubts like these that doom the less committed alimentary aspirants from deeper entry into the trade. Not for them the big bucks bum bonanza of flaunting a famous anus. In the anals of history, many are called but few are chosen. For most, a lifetime of amateur antics is all they can hope for until a sudden sense of shame or the horror of rectal prolapse calls time on their chocolate starfish shenanigans.

Yet despite these ringpiece risks, bums are now hot property in what passes for modern culture.

The stench set in less than forty years ago, when the so-called ‘Poo Romantics’ burst out of the Water Closet without even bothering to wipe. They claimed this was because the paper had run out, but this act of defiance was the genesis of the infamous ‘skid marks’ craze of the eighties. Wiping was for wallies and stain removal by sobbing mums in rubber gloves became a potent symbol of generational alienation.

Cut to today where BBC One’s Great British Bake Off regularly features Mel and Sue bundling contestants to the ground and farting on their heads “just for shits and giggles.” Politicians on Question Time no longer even bother to debate and instead fling their poo at opponents. One of the flingers, who asked not to be named [Margaret Hodge], stated “We saw some monkeys do it at the zoo and it looked like great fun.”

Even the elderly are getting in on the act with free anal bleaching on the NHS, choosing tints for taints with the same casual manner in which they deliver their occasional racist tirades and/or harrowing tales of defecation. “They’re all brown, aren’t they? And they smell. They should send them back where they came from!” said one musty old dear, before adding “I’m nearly ninety and I’ve still got my own teeth.”

This view, while abhorrent to any right-thinking person, or indeed anyone with a basic grasp of peristalsis, is unfortunately widespread amongst the coffin dodgers.

“When I was a little girl there was dog poo everywhere. And it was proud to be white,” one of them probably said. “We used to think it was chalk. Only you could never draw with it.”

When asked to comment, a Church spokesman said “Jesus rode an ass on Palm Sunday. It’s in the Bible somewhere.”

Now wash your hands.



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