Let’s get something out the way first and foremost right about now – The Duke has never been one to get terribly excited at the prospect of looking at folks doing some sex, or standing about naked, maybe making kissy faces, or bending over so as their arse is in the air and looking around and saying “Come on baby, I loved your review of that Aliens Versus Predator is the truth of the matter”.
The Duke finds it all a bit embarrassing.
Certain friends and colleagues and so on have accused me of having a “puritanical” stance and all sorts of vile nonsense. No, the answer to it all is that it’s just a bit ridiculous.
But it certainly serves a purpose, if only of the technological variety. Who the hell do you think is responsible for those ultra-secure credit card dealings on the web-net, the kind that ensure you don’t get your fucking life savings hijacked by terrorists just because you wanted to purchase some Lucio Fulci off of the Amazonians?
You have porn to thank for your financial security, is what.
So any the hell way, what happened, and what this all relates to, is that The Duke was invited for to browse the website known as www.fatalbeauty.com for a period of time, and to sample the many wares contained therein.
You may have heard all about those Suicide Girl people, the porn-star types who look like they just stepped out the mosh-pit after headbutting folks in time to some blood-drenched performance by the Penile Desecrations or the Necrophile Thunderfucks or whatever these black metal artists are calling themselves nowadays. Fatal Beauty shares this idea of gothic chic, with as much eyeliner and tattoos on display as there are breasts, sex bits, etc.
What we need to do, for the sake of our sociological and anthropological appreciation of all this jazz, is to note that Fatal Beauty, from what I could tell, after spending at least 16 days staring at the screen and rendering myself blind in both eyes for about 22 minutes a day, exists within the “softcore” side of things. In other words, folks are certainly gonna be very very naked, and also, they’re probably going to make seductive faces and so on, but you don’t have to be worrying that at any minute a sex-limb is gonna join the party and then we might be treated to some gynaecological demonstration of some kind.
Unlike the video a certain young fellow lent The Duke back in the High School, purporting to be about the life of Mozart, but no, it was all about the time the composer was working on some tracks, laying down some new shit, and then took a break for to have much dirty with a bunch a ladies. Next thing anyone knows, there’s filthy sex spraying about the place, and all to the strains of some fine, overblown classical music.
Mind you, it was much more insightful than the Milos Foreman number.
Fatal Beauty also shares the Mozart film’s love of “the arts”. To this end, what we get in the gallery attributed to each model is a bunch a shots that just have maybe their eye, or their shoulder, or maybe their head but really tiny, like at the bottom left of the screen, and the rest dominated by a overcast sky. Far be it from The Duke to suggest, but I’m guessing these photographical experiments get somewhat overlooked in favor of frantic battering of the “Next” button for to see when the hell a nipple might appear.
Maybe after five or six minutes of studying said nipple, or maybe fifteen if you’re a bit tired, maybe then the arty stuff gets a look, when a fella might be feeling a bit exhausted and probably disgusted with himself, and can’t be bothered clicking anymore fucking buttons.
Screw it, thinks our hypothetical subject, I’ll just look at this shit right here for a minute, then maybe I’ll clean this up.
Thing is, though, Fatal Beauty costs 4.99 a month for to subscribe. Now, far as I can tell, via my research in the field and so on, the web-sites that charge for access to pictures all about folks get naked tend to be a bit more “hardcore”. In other words, what happens is you see very tame stuff, and then if you pay 20 quid and half of a lung, you get to see that same tame stuff but with added erections, sex-explosions and so on.
Fatal Beauty charges 4.99 for the kinda stuff you see in, say, FHM or Maxim, or whatever it is you kids buy nowadays on account of you’re too embarrassed to buy porn.
Obviously, though, if you’re a member (no motherfucking pun intended), then you get all kinds of kooky benefits, like you get to join in on discussions and stuff, mostly along the lines of “Man, that (insert name of model) is so fucking HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!”, and you also get to have a profile and so on, all kinds a stuff, hoping, of course, that one of those ladies will be so impressed by your yacking about how “fucking HOT!!!!!!!!!!” she is that she’ll look up your profile and get the first bus to wherever the hell it is you’re crouching at right now.
But it’s not all ladies, though. There’s a few fellas too, lads who also have the dyed hair and the piercing and all that gothic malarkey. A bit like when Pete Steele from Type O Negative posed for Playgirl. The worst-selling issue of all ever, it turned out.
There’s something pleasingly home-spun about the whole enterprise, like how most of the people getting all naked and cold and standing outside a cathedral or such like, they all seem to know the folks involved. Sometimes you get a bit of text on the galleries saying shit like “I been trying to get her to pose for us for weeks”, giving the impression that these people are all, y’know, “friends”.
A fuck of a lot more interesting than those ones off the TV, mind you, with their cappuccinos and their will-they, won’t-they ever get a sex type shenanigans.
It’s also something of an achievement, getting your friends to partake in this kinda nonsense. How many times has The Duke thought of approaching somebody and asking them to pose naked for a while?
Never even once, motherfuckers, so don’t go getting no ideas.
So then, what have we learned from all of this?
If a fella wants to pay five quid a month, knowing full well that there’s gonna be as much “art” as “arse”, then Fatal Beauty certainly has the feel of a community about it, and to be honest, some of these models, well, let’s just say they might be “fucking HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and leave it at that. Rolling Stone magazine certainly found it to be worthy of a praise or two, flinging accolades at it like there’s no tomorrow.
From what The Duke can tell though, if I had to be paying for some pornographic material, whilst utilising technology that ensures I can find detailed video footage of every sinful perversion known to man with just the click of a button in the direction of Kazaa, I’d expect it to be pretty fucking astonishing. In saying that, though, the site is rather lovely, and the photos and stuff are all of exceptionally good quality. Probably best to click on over and have a browse through the tour section, before deciding if this is the kinda stuff you wanna be going to hell for.
The Duke resides at Mondo Irlando.
And He Wants No-Strings Fun!!! Call 0890 7890 D-U-K-E