Coming Soon On A Screen Near You

You may recall that I wrote a piece about The People's synthetic outrage at discovering a Coronation Street actor had once had a small part in a gay adult video (no pun intended).
I have now received an appreciative email from the producers of that video, Messrs Eurocreme.
When I first saw the email address I thought it was from a European conglomerate of dairy product manufacturers and wondered if it might be an introductory offer to something like Instant Whip.
That might of course be the title of one of their products since they are purveyors of gay erotic entertainment to the peoples of Europe.

It was most kind of them to write, even if they forgot to attach a free download of one of their movies. And they tell me that the quotes attributed to them in the newspaper article were entirely fictitious. I know, I could scarcely believe it either: a tabloid reporter making up quotes. At this rate they'll soon be digitally altering photographs too. Some might say that producers of porn movies complaining about people putting things in their mouths is a tad ironic but I wouldn't go that low.

Flattered, and rather surprised, by my new status as a friend of the adult entertainment industry, I wondered if there might be an opening for me there.
Gay movies are probably the only ones where the Best Boy is more likely to be the lead actor than someone working on the set. But, despite my boyish good looks, I'm probably unlikely to be engaged for either role. Frankly, I'm a bit long in the tooth and I don't think the dental department is where the producers of this oeuvre look for length. Not that I would disappoint on either score, you understand.

I could, of course, be cast in a similar role to that of the Corrie actor - as the mature Professor/Father Figure who does nothing more explicit than slide his hand down his elasticated, Marks and Spencer chinos. But that wouldn't be much fun. I haven't waited 40 years to become a porn star only to be portrayed as a tosser and not even get my trousers off.

An on-screen role would necessitate a name change and that could be problematic. A prevalent internet myth is that porn star names are chosen by a combination of pet's name, mother's maiden name or the street name of somewhere you lived.
My first pet, a guinea pig, was called Snowy which would be fine if my hair was white, but it's not. I had a tortoise unoriginally called Shelley but that's no good unless I were doing tranny movies. My dogs were called Pete and Cato, the latter name possibly being serviceable if I were doing a Roman-themed sex romp. But since this would involve draping myself over couches wearing a toga and sucking grapes it would lack novelty, being all too similar to an ordinary Saturday night chez Lupin.
However, adding in some street names of places I've lived I come up with Pete Tufnell, Shelley Westbourne, Cato Trinity and, my favourite, Snowy St Stephen.

But no. Probably best to stick to a creative role.
I was going to offer the boys at Eurocreme my services as a scriptwriter but then I thought they might think I was taking the piss. Does anyone actually write the moans and grunts in porn films?
It reminds me of the problems of writing for Frankie Howerd (apart from him expecting you to provide additional services). Apparently, if you included the 'Oohs' and 'Ahs' he got angry and said those were his job, but if you left them out he asked you why they weren't there.

Actually, the research team here at MFME have discovered that some of Eurocreme's movies do at least have plots. My favourite is Spy Boy 2, which features 'James Bonk, Britain's studliest spy', summarised as follows:
"International crisis looms as devilishly cute villain Willy Blondini [there you are, I could use my blog name!] steals the DNA of an important religious leader. If his ransom demands aren't met, he'll create armies of clones to throw the world in turmoil. Only Bonk can help! Bonk and his gorgeously Gallic sidekick [I speak a little French, you know] **** and **** their way through Blondini's network of sex dens, finally tracing the heinous blond baddy to a chateau on the outskirts of Paris. Captured by Blondini, Bonk's last wish is an orgy with his entourage. That could be our hero's last stand.....but he's carrying something in his pants that might just save the day."
OK, it's not something you'd pitch to the Head of Drama at the BBC. On the other hand, I've seen episodes of The Bill that required only slightly less suspension of disbelief.
Truman Capote said the best thing about masturbation was that you didn't have to get dressed up for it. So why does the wank material have to be dressed up as an intricately plotted James Bond spoof?
(Did you know that there are over 1,700 synonyms or euphemisms for masturbation? Just thought I'd toss that in).

Anyway, someone has to write this stuff and sometimes one has to turn tricks, creatively speaking, to put bread on the table and toad in the hole.
After all, the priapic librarian-cum-poet, Philip Larkin, wrote pornography. So far as we know he did it only for his personal pleasure and wasn't to be found wandering round Soho in that long raincoat and trilby hat clutching folders of scripts classified by the Dewey Decimal System.
It's true that he also wrote some very good poetry whereas I've only written some limericks, most of them disappointingly clean.
No, I tell a lie. When I was 14 I wrote 'Soliloquy On A Theme By Proust'. What a pretentious little c**** I must have been.
[Anyone thinking of querying the past tense can f*** off].

There's not much on TV this weekend and if I go easy on the blogging I could make a start right now. Initial thoughts are something horticultural (is that a Lupin in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?). Not so much My Beautiful Laundrette, more My Beautiful Garden Centre. Unless you have any better ideas.

Of course, I'll need to be there when the shooting's taking place to make sure that everything's as I visualised it and, you never know, the actor playing the Alan Titchmarsh role might fall sick and they'll need a stand in.
Snowy St Stephen..... Potting Shed...... Take Six: "great dibber action, Snowy, but that begonia buggered up the money shot so we'll have to do it again. Take five, love. That's minutes, not days. We're shooting a movie, not sowing an herbaceous border. The garden centre opens in an hour and we don't want you standing there with your dibber in your hand when little old ladies come looking for winter pansies."