Six wild sexual fetishes of nice, well-dressed, smiling people

THE only reason kindly, good-mannered people are quite so pleasant is because they secretly participate in daring, filthy sex acts. These are their shocking exploits: 

Erotic clowning

He keeps it quiet, but your sweet, elderly colleague Paul? Loves to dress up in full red-nosed, multi-coloured clown gear and blow balloons into phallic shapes before shooting juggling balls out of his orifices. The custard pie in the face is exactly what you think. Remember that when he asks how your weekend was.


Little do you know, your kindly local greengrocer and his wife play out a regular fantasy where she leads him around his local M&S in a gimp suit and black leather leash. Doing his weekly charcuterie order through an over-tightened ball gag keeps things spicier than dry-cured chorizo.


Not content with the usual flogging and whipping, your cheery best mate from school who’s so friendly at five-a-side regularly participates in a very kinky act involving genitalia and the sharp edge of 300gsm white paper. Goes through a ream a week. Won’t be tackling him now, will you?

Hardcore foraging

Your mum’s boring friend Susan? She got a little too into ‘wild living’ during lockdown and now regularly searches the Wiltshire countryside for fungi shaped like a big throbbing cock and balls. Then she takes it home and, well, she has a dedicated audience on OnlyFans, put it that way.

Helium ballooning

That nice woman who walks her Labradoodle past your house and always says ‘Hello’? You wouldn’t want to hear what she says at home, while she forces her husband to inhale helium from party balloons while he takes a bloody hard rogering from behind with a strap-on. No, you wouldn’t want to hear that at all.


Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the thing that your parents are into is so filthy that it can’t be printed here. All we can say is that there’s a reason they were smiling so much in that picture they sent you from their holiday in Devon. The 87-year-old in the cottage next door sold it and moved to Middlesbrough, out of sheer shame.

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Sunstroke, climate change, colonialism: the Guardian's guide to ruining any enjoyment of the nice weather

SOAKING up the last of the summer heat before a long, hard, cold winter? The Guardian thinks you need to feel bad about that: 

Skin damage

Sunny weather is the perfect time to obsess about the long-term damage the sun is wreaking on your skin. If you’ve not been applying factor 50 every six minutes since July then prepare to reap a whirlwind of skin cancer, premature aging and, if you’re a white person with a tan, cultural appropriation of marginalised communities. Fascist.

Climate change

Basking in the sun? You ignorant bastard. Gather your children, slap their ice-creams from their hands and remind them that the world as they know it is already over. Making sandcastles is just a precursor to the fortified homes of the UK Water Wars of 2030. Because of days like this, we are all going to die.


Taking a last chance to sit out and build up vitamin D? Well, your feeble British body is utterly unequipped to handle these temperatures. Anything above a meagre 16 degrees and you’re in grave danger. Stay in the shade, scream if touched by a ray of direct sunlight and ideally go back indoors.

Wild swimming

Surely the Guardian can’t have anything against wild swimming, the activity it’s been obsessed with for f**king years? Of course it can. Now water companies are spewing sewage into the sea and cyanotic algae blooms in our lakes, wild swimming is dangerous, privileged and tone-deaf. You bastard.


A beach ball? You honestly think that’s okay? And what about the endangered harbour porpoise whose blowhole will be blocked by the deflated beach-ball you lost in the waves? Its body ending up with your beach ball in the great Pacific garbage patch? The damage you and your evil beach ball have done to the environment should haunt your dreams.


White people, sitting out enjoying the sun? You know who did that? The colonial masters of India, the sugar cane slavers of Jamaica, and any other number of racist British monsters. You’re basically cosplaying as a white supremacist, with your camping chair and your Fab. Go home and issue a full apology on Twitter.