A solitary, unwholesome pleasure bringing a momentary illusion of connectedness, of being one with another – lover or stranger, it is just enough to sustain the brief fantasy that there is this shadowy ‘other’. An urgent, not-to-be-ignored quivering next to the thigh; a furtive personal pleasure that must be satisfied even if it entails a withdrawal to some squalid semi-private place, or – if too insistent – a discrete albeit public unholstering and frantic manipulation with fumbling or shamefully expert fingers. Indeed, satisfying such an intensely private act under disapproving public eyes adds a certain frisson to the thing. The spasm passes, the throbbing ends and a brief instant of gratification, la petite mort: yes, oh yes, your BlackBerry® has brought you mail.
We were always told that such ‘filthy’ activities brought with them the risk of blindness, although our Victorian forebears were probably not thinking of eyestrain due to staring at BBMilbank text on a minuscule screen. We were warned that it was a habit that if carried to excess broke up families.
A puerile joke about attending to throbbing tools in public? Well, Research in Motion asked – or just possibly begged – for it . Why on earth name the thing after that most engorged, must turgid of fruits?
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