Louis laps up a kinky feast
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,
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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.