Somebody’s Got To Do It

I thought his house would be dirty. You know, like when  we’ve done drug raids and found them stinking pits where those semi-human scum shoot up.  Or when we get called to a domestic and end up in a filthy housing estate.  They always seem to be dirty, the types I have to deal with.

But it were clean as a whistle his gaff. Painted white, all arty prints on the walls, and varnished floorboards.  Proper middle class he was.  I admit it, I was a bit gobsmacked.

I’ve done this kind of thing. NO, not THAT kind of thing! I’m not a poofter am I? No I mean I’ve done these stings before.  Usually with drug dealers. Once or twice with pimps.  I don’t like them jobs. The pimps especially can turn nasty. They can afford expensive weapons if you know what I mean. But I have never done a porn case before.  I never even thought of porn as being  illegal if I’m honest. It seems daft to me.  But I was just following orders.

Anyway so there I was, stood at the door of a sadomasochist rent boy, pretending to be a punter, NO! Not that kind of punter. Pretending I wanted to buy his dirty dvds.  Ok I’ll admit it. I was a TINY bit curious. I’m only human.  Once you’ve spent a few hours at work, doing ‘research’, being briefed by the Super on ‘BDSM’ ‘Bottoming’ ‘anal fisting’ ‘cock rings’ ‘ball bashing’ etc, etc, your interest is bound to be piqued, shall we say.

So I was stood outside his house, arranging my mug into my best porno customer face, when he answers the door all smiles. He were older than I expected, and kind of hippy like. Had these kind of multi-coloured pyjama things on.  Not what I was imagining at all.  God knows what I did expect. They don’t have ‘pervert’ written on their foreheads do they? I was nervous. My palms were starting to sweat. It felt like I was the criminal, not him. I don’t like doing these sting operations. There’s something not quite right about them. You know, morally.

He went into the kitchen. I heard a kettle boiling. He shouted at me, ‘what can I get you?’ I was on autopilot now so I shouted back quick as a flash, ‘fisting!’ It must have been the nerves. He came back with a cup of tea and I was stood there  blushing as red as a pillar box. Maybe, when I said ‘fisting’ he heard it as ‘tea please’, or maybe he was just being polite.  ‘Sugar’? he asked smiling a bit. I’m sure he was sliently laughing at me. ‘No thanks’.  I was recording all this on a digirecorder under me coat. I suddenly had a flash-forward and saw them reading out what I just said, in a court room, and people smirking in the gallery. What an idiot! Then we got down to business.

He asked me what kind of stuff I was looking for. I had practised this bit beforehand, I knew I had to make sure I got the most hardcore films or we’d have nothing to pin on him. So I told him I wanted the most extreme flicks he had. With fisting in of course. I tried to look… hard.

Whilst he rummaged around in a cupboard I took another look round the room. Like I said it were clean as a whistle. One of the paintings was an original, a picture of this drag queen type. I felt like she – I mean he – was looking at me. Asking me what did I think I were doing? I think I blushed again. I started to feel a bit dirty inside.

He handed me five  dvds. I took em without looking, not even to check the titles. I just shoved them in me bag and asked him how much? The price seemed reasonable. For you know, what you get. So I gave him the notes then got out as quick as I could. I didn’t want him to change his mind. And I wanted to get away.

I wasn’t there when they went back to arrest him. Thank God. I don’t think I could have looked him in the eye after what I did. I didn’t watch the dvds either. The lads down the station, even them that wasn’t involved in the case, they all got together one evening and watched them back to back. But I didn’t. I felt, what’s the word? Implicated.

The courtcase happened in the new year. I didn’t have to attend and was relieved again. They read out my statement. I think the defendant was questioned about the details of what I said. The point of the trial was to decide if his dirty videos ‘depraved and corrupted’ the viewers. I don’t even know what them words mean. I’m glad I wasn’t on the jury. Anyway when he was found not guilty I couldn’t help but smile. I wasn’t happy working on that case. He seemed like a nice bloke. It’s a dirty job. But


By Quiet Riot Girl This is a fictional story based on the real life Obscenity Trial, London, 2012.


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