Louis laps up a kinky feast

Daily Star Sunday - - FRONT PAGE -

THEY had “sen­sual eat­ing” on Louis Th­er­oux’s Al­tered States.

There was mas­sag­ing, grub stuffed into peo­ple’s gobs and that great ham in the mid­dle – Louis him­self, shirt­less, blind­folded and afraid.

He was in Port­land, Ore­gon, look­ing at “polyamory”. Not, mer­ci­fully, a bunch of per­verts ob­sessed with par­rots. That’d be mad­ness – par­rots can talk. And imag­ine the squawk­ing.

No, polyamor­ist re­la­tion­ships in­volve more than two peo­ple. Like mar­ried cou­ple Jerry and Heidi, and her lover Joe who leaves wife Gretchen to romp with Heidi in the fam­ily home…with her kids there.

Jerry is de­lighted about in­sisted Heidi.

“There’s a term for this,” she as­sured Louis. “Com­per­sion – be­ing happy for some­one else’s hap­pi­ness.” I can think of other terms, the most pleas­ant be­ing “greedy”, “self­ish” and “bi­atch”.

You’ve never seen a glum­mer-look­ing happy man than poor cuck­olded Jerry, whose self-worth is be­ing slowly and re­lent­lessly shred­ded away like a Banksy paint­ing.

His mis­sus is openly cheat­ing and keeping him on to foot the bills. En­joy! No won­der he looked per­pet­u­ally on the edge of tears.

Pushed gen­tly by Th­er­oux, Heidi fi­nally said: “Jerry’s hap­pi­ness is not my re­spon­si­bil­ity.”

His un­hap­pi­ness clearly was, though – and the lone­li­ness. He needs to

kick her straight out it... Email me at: garry.bushell@ dai­lystar.co.uk or write c/o Daily Star Sun­day,

10 Lower Thames Street, Lon­don

EC3R 6EN – Heidi-bye! – and kick Joe in the nuts. Louis also met Bob, Nick and Amanda – the Rod, Jane and Fred­die of this whacko West Coast scene.

They’re a “thrup­ple”, kip­ping to­gether un­der dif­fer­ent blan­kets, with the blokes taking it in turns to plea­sure Amanda. She and Nick were col­lege sweet­hearts. Then Bob had bobbed up. At first they had tried three­somes but it didn’t work.

“Bob lasts a re­ally long time in bed and I don’t,” ex­plained Nick. “So I’d have to go first or I’d fall asleep. Or go down and play video games. Or have lunch...”

Now they ser­vice her on a rota. Tsk. The world gets more like the made-up let­ters of an 80s porn mag every day (I’m told).

On one hand, it’s an af­front to tra­di­tional moral­ity. On the other, it sug­gests my chances of get­ting locked in a pub cel­lar with a pair of man-hun­gry bar­maids have never been higher.

Polyamor­ists see them­selves as hu­man­ity’s fu­ture, but come across more like a cult build­ing up to a ter­ri­ble blood-soaked atroc­ity.

Don’t get me started on Mat­tias, his preg­nant girl­friend and her bit on the side, the em­i­nently punch­able “Q”. Short for Quant, per­haps.

POLYAMORY is not to be con­fused with Balam­ory. That was quite dif­fer­ent, though I wouldn’t put it past Miss Hoolie. And Edie did love to honk a horn... HOUSE Of Cards with­out Frank Un­der­world – there’s no show with­out Punch. Rick’s Walk­ing Dead exit – the big­gest let-down out since Peter Bar­low got popped with a paint gun. Chase edi­tions where play­ers have the col­lec­tive IQ of a plate of whelks.

■ TOUCHY: Louis is in a blind­fold for saucy sen­sual eat­ing ses­sion THE Lit­tle Drum­mer Girl is taking too long to find its rhythm. Has the writer been suck­ing one of the Is­raelis’ drug-in­fused Jaf­fas?

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