COLUMN
COLUMN: MR NOSEY
CHRIS BRIDGES
I have a very bad habit on public
transport. I’m incurably nosy and I
can’t help peeking over people’s
shoulders at what they’re reading,
watching or texting. It’s naughty,
voyeuristic and an invasion of
privacy but oh what a joy it can be.
Whether its spotting the
suited businessman who is secretly
reading a romantic novel on his
Kindle, the surprisingly sexual texts of a middle aged
woman or the semi-pornographic and bizarre social
media feeds of a teenager; I love the little glimpse it
gives me into people’s lives. It’s a bit like the dusky
late summer nights when you get a peek into
people’s sitting rooms in the magical little hour when
people light the lamps just before they draw their
curtains. It’s a very guilty pleasure but I confess. I’m
guilty as charged. I love to see and imagine what
others’ lives are like. I’m not after spying on people
naked or spotting people in coitus. I’d be pretty
mortified if I did and blush the colour of a pillar-box
whilst quickly looking away. I want to see nasty
curtains and ornaments, not cocks.
I got a couple of shocks recently. About a
month ago I was on the train into central London
and a well-groomed man of about 20 was answering
a volley of texts on his phone. I cast a sneaky
sideways glance and was pretty horrified to read that
he was setting up being the all you can eat buffet for
a group of Chinese businessmen in a hotel. The
reassuring factor was that the person procuring his
services appeared to have arranged it very carefully
and was reassuring him that the businessmen would
all wait in a separate room and take it in turns,
forming an orderly queue to make use of his body. I
must admit to feeling a bit queasy but reproached
myself for my bourgeois small mindedness. He was
wearing McQueen (he needed income to maintain
that look), looked relaxed and happy and who am I
to have qualms about his job just because I wouldn’t
do it myself. Although, an orderly queue? I love good
manners. Maybe not such a horrific job after all,
provided it was a good quality hotel.
A few weeks ago I was travelling up North and
my nosiness caused me a major dilemma. The
middle-aged businessman man sitting in front of me
was reviewing his selection of
photographs on his phone. These
weren’t happy snaps of his kids or shots
of Instagrammed food: they were covert
photos of young women’s crotches
taken under train tables. After an hour
of seeing him from between the seat
backs enlarging, changing definitions
and compulsively viewing a huge
collection of photos of women’s thighs
and gussets (all taken under train tables), I made my
displeasure known through a series of huffs and tsks
that made him stop for a good 5 minutes before
resuming his compulsion. To cut a long story very
short: I managed to make like a cross between Mary
Whitehouse and Miss Marple and got his name and
company address from his email signature when he
sent an email on his laptop and reported him to the
police. Being the person I am, I challenged him first
and asked if I could take a picture of his cock or not;
a question he seemed to object to which was
something I found hypocritical in an inveterate
vagina snapper.
He, ultimately, got a police caution, which
was great. My point in telling the story? I wonder am
I any better than him? I invade privacy by reading
texts, looking in people’s houses and I lecherously
glance at men’s bulging crotches on public transport.
Only yesterday, I couldn’t resist a good look at a
muscled man in tight Lycra (he was definitely
circumcised). I know people who post pictures of hot
men in the street on Facebook for their friends’ to
comment on. There are whole social media feeds of
people’s photos of bare chested young men on Tube
trains. It’s no wonder that we can get confused on
what is right and wrong any more. Is my
grandmother’s favourite 1950s past time of passing
on overheard bits of gossips over the garden fence
any different in its intrusive and harmful voyeuristic
joy? Is the digital age making us all into a bunch of
twisted individuals?
Maybe we should all think twice about what
the boundaries are and what is harmless admiration
and what is invasion of privacy. The questions and
issues are endless. The big question: will I stop
peeking at people’s iPads and phones? Of course not.
THEGAYUK | ISSUE 16 | NOV 2015 63