If there is a difference between and Englishman and a Scotsman, it is that while the Englishman likes to build agreeable euphemisms for disagreeable phenomena, the Scotsman will be very blunt and call a spade a spade.

So, in this post I’m going to channel my inner Scotsman, if there is such a thing, and use language which under most circumstance could be described as ‘potty mouthed’.

You have been warned, and if your image of me relies on a clean-shaven, up-standing, and non-crude understanding look away. I just want to talk about what happened with David Cameron. Here goes… Don’t say you weren’t warned.


David Cameron allegedly skull-fucked a dead pig. He did so as part of an initiation rite to get into an impossibly exclusive Oxford fraternity or student club called ‘The Pierce Gaveston Society’.

Not only was it enough that he belonged to a club called ‘The Bullingdon Boys’ that burns £50 bills in front of homeless people to savage any connection between the poor and the rich, he wanted to become a member of a society that skull-fucks dead pigs as part of the membership initiation.

I look to my own sex-life, which isn’t nearly so spicy, and I look to what I know of all my friends and peers attempts at sex-lives and realise they’re just like me. I am happy with my sex-life with Mark, and he appears to be so in his sex-life with me. We really have no external measure to test whether that sex-life is exciting or spiffy or elaborate. We’re happy with it, and that’s about it.

My friends don’t tell me the details but their comments tend to vary between being pleased to being desperate. Either they have someone to have a sex-life with, or they don’t and have to rely on Mr Right-Hand (or Mr Left-Hand for the lefties). There’s still no space for bestial necrophilia in their life experiences, even for the desperate ones.

But there’s been a curious phenomena happening after the revelations of Mr Cameron’s sexual escapades. Suddenly there are many people who rush to defend him, and claim that skull-fucking dead pigs is a part of youthful experimentation.

In particular, commentators on the right have tried to dismiss this as an extremely common thing. “Everybody’s done something stupid when they’re young.” Quite. ‘Stupid’ doesn’t extend to bestiality or necrophilia, or any combination of the two, in my experience.

Maybe I’ve lead a sheltered and protected life, and maybe all my friends and peers and enemies and frenemies are terrible liars, but I find no evidence that even in ‘acting stupid’, young people habitually shag dead animals.

And it’s doubly ironic because this defence comes from people who just a few years ago muttered and grumbled that the Conservatives had gone too far when they embraced same-sex marriage. In a twisted, ironic sort of way, maybe one should be thankful that within the scope of five years the Tories have gone from wanting to bring back Section 28 to embrace a leader who likes to skull-fuck dead pigs.


There, my Scotsman post is finished, and I’ll go back to using ironic sexual innuendo with elaborate euphemisms as befits a proper Englishman now, a proper Englishman who will fail to express anything directly if it means embarrassment and difficulty.