The creepy populism surrounding Paris Hilton and Scooter Libby. - By Christopher Hitchens

I don't mind admitting that I, too, have watched Hilton undergoing the sexual act. I phrase it as crudely as that because it was one of the least erotic such sequences I have ever seen. She seemed to know what was expected of her and to manifest some hard-won expertise, but I could almost have believed that she was drugged. At no point did her facial expression match even the simulacrum of lovemaking. (Kingsley Amis, a genius in these matters and certainly no Puritan, once captured the combined experience of the sordid and the illicit by saying that, even as he wanted a certain spectacle to go on, he also wanted it to stop.)

I suppose if the only sex you get is an occasional hand shandy (when you stay off the booze long enough to avoid brewer's droop) why not watch Paris Hilton getting back-scuttled if it helps you on your way. Personally, I haven't seen Hilton getting shagged and I have no desire to do so. I gave up watching porn years ago. I prefer the real thing, with a real woman, not watching some bimbo with her legs around her neck, in glorious Minge-O-Rama.

So now, a young woman knows that, everywhere she goes, this is what people are visualizing, and giggling about. She hasn't a rag of privacy to her name.

Yep. How did that happen?

And now, a middle aged wanker knows that, everywhere he goes, this is what people are visualizing, and giggling about.

Yep. How did that happen?