Exploring the disposable pleasures of the plastic flesh.
For the compulsive onanist on the move, the ‘easy to use’ Instant Muff provides a portable facsimile of the female sex organ by way of a plastic tube filled with the type of foam rubber you find stuffed into a budget Ikea futon. Produced in the millions by confused Chinese factory workers, you can only begin to imagine what goes through their minds as legions of these grotesque creations roll along the assembly line. “Ah, just look at the true nature of our enemy. All that freedom, all that human potential…..and all they can think to do with it is to dip their capitalist sex organs into a prefabricated plastic casing that has the dark aesthetic power to fuel nightmares for an eternity”.
For your admission price you also get two packets of tropically flavoured lube. In this case both Kiwi and Black Cherry, suggesting that the unit is intended to be used more than once. On my first attempt to give it a go I’ll admit to feeling a wave of existential despair more profound than the Sartre back catalogue, but adopting a sense of Dunkirk spirit I unenthusiastically completed the job in hand.
Throughout the joyless ‘experience’ I avoided looking at the grisly mechanics and instead focussed blankly on the nearest wall. The concept of what I was engaging in threatening to collapse under the weight of its ridiculousness.
Call me a hopeless romantic, but I’m not sure I like my muff ‘instant’. Disposal is something of an issue. I would strongly discourage chucking it into the recycling bin for fear of being labelled a sex case by the local bin men. Being loathed to rinse it under the tap and reuse it, it instead sat dejected in my kitchen bin, oozing both jizz and a powerful metaphorical sense of loneliness.
BRUCE BARNARD
