I LIKE pornography. In fact I have wide enough experience of its genres to be able to judge nuances in much the same way an Eskimo can determine varieties of snow. However, I am also aware of the thresholds of appropriate time and place for its consumption, unlike a young man who my partner and I encountered last week.
We were in a British airport buying coffee at a kiosk when I spied, beside the till, the telltale image of naked legs and ass, huge cleavage and pouting lips with 'naughty' slogans covering up nipples and crotch. It was a copy of Nuts and the guy wh
o was making our coffees had set it down on top of his tabloid, in full view of all customers.
I'm no prude but I was struck dumb. As we walked back to the waiting area with our lattes, girlfriend asked what was up. "No way!" she shouted as I told her. "I'm going back over there to make him destroy it…"
I tried to calm her, but actually I was in agreement with her rage. Even given the predictably poor quality of customer service in the UK – the scruffy, rude, disinterested, resentful staff – there is one thing I absolutely insist on in all retail experiences: that I am not served by a sexually aroused man.
I mean what was the guy up to? Was he sneaking peeks at Pandora's 36FF cups while frothing a cappuccino? Maybe while buttering up a toastie he was comparing nipple sizes between June, 19, Samantha, 18, and Kylie, 20. Had he just got a little lazy in hiding it, or was he using it deliberately, letting the lingering images colour his transactions with passing women, as if seeing them through a porno filter? Had he done this with my partner?
She went over and complained. The guy did not apologise and removed the magazine with a grunt. "Do you want anything else?" he asked. She thought he meant in terms of debate on the nature of representation and sexual difference, but he meant scones or Earl Grey.
I pity the guy. He's a living example of how the line has been blurred between the public and private to the point of stupidity. The poor chap probably thought that since he'd just picked up his lad mag from prominent display in a supermarket, it was okay to parade it at his workplace with the same candour. The mistake was not his alone but that of a culture that has made images of female bodies omnipresent. A culture that has systematically eroticised the retail experience to an anti-social degree.
We seem terribly confused over this issue. Liberal leftists often defend porn as if it is an art form, some form of freedom of expression. Let's just get one thing straight: porn serves only one function. Men don't think about human rights or aesthetics as they leaf through the pages of practically identical girls. No, their mind is on more practical matters.
Of course, if you try to ban porn you won't stop men doing what they do. Hell, I admit it, I use it myself and it has, at times, helped me through relationship problems and loneliness. However, it has its time and place, and that, sure as damned, is not in a coffee kiosk. So get those magazines up on the top shelves and hidden inside brown paper bags and out of my face when I'm trying to buy a bloody grande skinny latte.
