5. The Lion King.
This is what you do. You walk up to a store specialised in 1930s memorabilia and you buy three lion-skin carpets which were shot by Stanley or some Austro-Hungarian nobleman of the belle époque. You then take them home and bring over two prostitutes. You have a nice candle-lit dinner during which you drink enough wine to stop considering the possibility inconceivable, and you actually wear one of the lion-skins and get the girls to wear the other two. You put on the tune of Hakuna Matata on the stereo, then get one of the prostitutes to fake-rape the other while you’re still trying to swipe off the sweat which results from grossing it out in one of these two-ton skins. Eventually you intervene and ‘save’ the lioness who is meant to be your mother. Then you sheep-bang her doggy style while she calls you ‘Simba’ and you shout ‘Who’s the King? Who’s the damn King, woman?’ This is a pretty regular Oedipal fantasy except that any attempt at oral sex is going to result in cardiac arrest given that the role play dictates that you’re sticking your dick into a lion’s mouth and you can kiss your flipper farewell if you do that. Also those old lion-skins stink like the devil’s own armpits so you need to buy new ones every time you try this (especially if you stain them), and I think it obvious that they’re not quite as accessible as condoms. Either that, or you find the MI6 of all launderettes and hope to God they don’t cost as much as a new lion skin themselves.
4. The Spear of the Spartan.
You are Ephialtes, a sad and impoverished soldier rejected from the normal legions because you’re so fucking ugly you could be taken for someone whose mama was into shagging crustaceans. Then comes Leonidas, a young and handsome lumberjack (in theory he was a king, but anyone with a beard like that has got to be a lumberjack, right? Right?) and your world is revolutionised – as the king himself puts it, ‘you have a fine thrust, Ephialtes.’ Then you go on to prove to him the truth of his statement by challenging him to a spear-shag-combat or whatever other kind of dick-waving competition you’re most into as long as you do it over his own shield. The real trouble of this fantasy is simply logistics – you’re going to have to buy the mother of all dinner-plates if you’re going to simulate a Spartan shield, and even then you’ve got to be really careful on it because if you bang each other too hard on it you’ll end up breaking it – which symbolically means a loss of ass-virginity, and for anyone who has reached these levels of role-play, that’s just a pitiful LIE.
3. The Democratic Erection.
This one is particularly corrosive if you’re a politician. It has two stages, and since it’s one of those fantasies which involve making videos, it is predictably convoluted to organise and execute. Firstly, you get hold of a video of that speech by Bill Clinton where he says ‘I did not bang that woman’ (or something along those lines) and you memorise it till you can recite it. Then you hire a prostitute to dress up as Monica Lewinski, and you film yourself giving that speech with Monica doing her work under the desk (chances are you’re not going to be able to hold Clinton’s straight face, but hopefully that shouldn’t be a problem for you). Then you close yourself into a wardrobe with another prostitute dressed up like a voting urn (that’s bound to cost you, but she won’t speak about it) and you get her to blow you through the introduction hole, so that you are effectively spunking on the verdict of the votes. All the while it is imperative that you should have taken with you a mini-TV or a PSP or something to play out the video as Bill Clinton being blown by Monica while saying he never did, then you remove the ‘voting urn’ off the girl and hey presto, it turns out she’s dressed like Hillary Clinton! The irony is of course that Clinton was lying to you about Monica, but you don’t really care because you’re too busy getting head – by his wife. The inherent danger of this fantasy is that the video may leak out to someone who should not be seeing it (basically everyone on the entire planet), so you want to destroy the video as soon as. Also, good luck finding a wardrobe large enough to fit you, the prostitute dressed up as a voting urn, a mini-TV and still have space for all the damn antics you’re going to have to undergo. You might want to empty it of any clothes you may have in there (if you’re prone to dressing up like your mother, then put those away before the prostitute arrives in the house). The alternative would be to go in a real voting cabin during a real election, but if you really want to shoot yourself in the face with a rocket launcher that badly, just dress up as a Taliban and run into an airport with a knife screaming ‘Inshallah!’ Not only will they shoot you, they’ll get their dogs to bite off your testicles for you first.
2. The Angry Monkey.
You get hold of a really snazzy sports car. If you’re a celebrity – as this post assumes – then it may well be your own, otherwise (or if you’re unwilling to undergo the upcoming stuff on your own car, which admittedly is a very comprehensible possibility) you can simply hire one. Then you get on the M31 and pick up a prostitute, the more robust the better. This is in fact the most difficult bit to execute because a snazzy sports car stopping by a prostitute arena on the highway – next to the trucks, the Smarts and the tractors – is something bound to attract a lot of attention and give you away. Make sure your car has dark glass. Once you’ve picked up the prostitute, take her to some dark corner in the countryside and get her to take a crap on the sunroof while you pull your seat backwards and stare at the process from beneath, illuminating it with a flashlight. Then you collect the crap in a plastic bag if you can do that without retching and you take the car into the city, where you guide your car at the highest speed you can without driving into a Donut store. You get the prostitute to give you a blowjob while you’re driving, and while she’s doing that you take the plastic bag and fling the shit onto the windshields of any car which has had the misfortune of having been parked nearby. Try thinking of a route which is not Daytona ’94 for this little stunt or you’re bound to crash somewhere. Also try to show at least a little bit of caution. You deserve whatever outing you get if you’re so dumb as to lob your shit onto the windshield of a police-car.
1. Mosley.
The number one fantasy would have got on here even if it weren’t a true story. I recall actually spending the good part of an hour last night in bed trying to imagine a fantasy worse than what this guy did (candidate for the prize was ‘The Charles Dickens’ fantasy, where you get a little boy to drill your ass with a Christmas tree – of reduced size, not necessarily an actual fir-tree – while you shout at him ‘Oliver, twist! Oliver, twist!’). However, nothing beats organising a Nazi orgy where you play the part of a concentration camp prisoner and get whipped by SS hench-ladies in black leather in the breaks between giving you hair and testicle examinations. I mean, you’ve got a lady with black leather gloves searching for lice amid your testicles after skinning your back with whiplashes and that’s the only thing that gets you off? What the hell is wrong with you? Your heritage, maybe – the guy’s father was apparently something of a psycho. Regardless, it’s no wonder that the guy’s career and reputation was finished. I can’t think of any public figure surviving a thing like that, and on this account the fantasy hereby raised to fame as ‘The Mosley’ gains first prize in our special awards!
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