Reba i\laybury

Dining wi th I lumpty Dumpty

Copyright <:: 2017 hy Reha \laybury

A II rig.Im reserved
Printed in the IJnitccl Kingdom

Reba Maybury asserts the moral right to be identifi ed as the author of this \\'ork.

/\ ll rights rescn·cd. No part of this publirntion may be reproduced. stored in a retrieval

system. or trnnsmilled, in any form nr by any means. ek:ctronic. mechanical. photocopying.
recording. or otherwise or otherwise. without the prior permission of the publishers.

Second edition. 2018

Art Work: Will Sheldon

/\rt\\ Ork Copyright i " Will Sheldon
Edited by (iabrida Rivera-Morales. I larman Rni ns <llld Ruth l'ilston

/\ ll characters depicted in this book are fktiti0us.

Any resemblance to real persons. living or dead. is purely coincidenta l.

Wet Satin l'ress/ Arcadia 1\11 iss;1

ww\\. we tsatinprcss.com
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When I chose to meet Humphrey for the first time, I decided that il would
only be appropriate to meet somewhere as equal ly insipid as his general
being. We had arranged to go for dinner and it was up to me to choose the
restaurant.

There are many Ed's Diners in London, but I chose the one in Angel situated
in a monotonous shopping complex bui It 14 years ago. Ed's website describes
the chain as a ·Funky diner with a 1950s vibe serving burgers, hot dogs and
American com fort foo d.' There is a particularly distasteful irony to a retro
restaurant, neighboured by the most commercially popular phone shops and
fashion chains that are filled with clothes probably made by Bangladeshi
children.

I was already fifteen minutes late to meet Humpty when I walked up the
sta irs to the first floor restaurant. Tht: songs of a nostalgic past that even
our grandparents can hardly remember stagnated in the air. Cheaply framed
record covers hung on the walls alongs ide cheerful mid-century Coca Cola
adverts. The interiors made vague efforts towards claiming a sort ofhistorical
accuracy, but fai led to ach ieve any kind or authentit.:ity.

Humphrey was sitting alone at the end or the almost empty diner, inside a
red pleather booth and next to a large window with a view of the shopping
centre at rush hour. My high heels landed loudly on the black and white tiled
Aoor and he froie when he heard me before lifting his head to watch me
walk towards him. The waiters played on their phones.

As he watched me approach, he seemed instantly panicked, but it was hard

to work out \Vhether th is look of anxiety was simply the natural disposition
of his frail facial features. Humphrey's eyes looked as if they might ever so
slightly want to pop out of his face. Facing him, I began to unbutton my coat
in silence before I sat down. He wasn't sure whether to get up to greet me
or not and, for a second, he levitated his body in an awkward motion before
resting again and mumbling vague greetings.
 ()]'JJN ( i WI T H ll l !:v!PTY Dl!:v!PTY

I lumphrey's fa ce is so forgettable, so intrinsically English in its palatable

mousy demeanour, that it is difficu lt to imagine him having a conversation
about anything other than what is currently happening in the ma instream
media. He is shorter than the average man at roughly 5'8, 33-years-old, and
he grew up in an idyllic part of the south of England. Now he O\\'nS a brand
new apartment in the middle of the radically lifeless gentrifi cation of Kings
Cross, an area of London that currently ex ists mainly as a building site for
half-completed, multi-million pound highrises, each of which possesses an
aesthetic of barren sterility and prox imity to a careful ly-planned area fi lled
with restaurants and wine bars. His job has something to do with media,
marketing, comm unicati on and producti on but that could essentially mean
anything. Those four words sitting next to one another incite a lighting bolt
of tedium into my soul. What exactly does it mean'! What does he do all day?
And does he. or anyone for that matter, get any fo lfi llment out or it?

While speaking on line, Humphrey told me that he voted for the Conservative
Party in the last election and was privately educated. He completed his degree
at a coastal university and then went on to gain a Masters. He is single and
often travels for work.

A female wa itress came over lo take our order. She had a Czech accent and a
sweet. but bored attitude.

' He is incredibly hungry this evening and has a huge appetite, so he would
love to have the doublc cheese burger with bacon and a fried egg.' I paused
and peered at him before completing my sentence.

'Oh, but it is essential that he has extra fries, and we can't forget extra onion
ri ngs.' I prolonged the ' x' sound every time I said ' extra .'

·And I think we 're goi ng to ha\·e get a side of baked beans, too.' I examined
the back or the menu and took my time choosing his next order.

'To go with that, he is also going to have a chocolate mi lkshake' . I inspected

the menu for another five seconds. The wai tress began to look a lilllc conf\.ised.

'We really can't forget to add malt to the milkshake, and he is going to have to
have an ex tra large Coca-Cola. However, I am nowhere near as hungry as he
is. so I'll be sensible and just have a green salad and a mineral water. please.'
 l:'.lYS DINER

The waitress left, clearly confused to \·vhy l had ordered for him, and
Humphrey instantly said:

'Thank you, Mistress Rebecca. Those were wonderful choices.'

I looked al him with semi disgust. Although my work as a dominatrix is

predominantly concerned with maintaining a power balance and remaining
in a character, Humphrey really does revoll me. However, I have a perversely
mundane l"ascination with him. The usual stereotypes or BDSM often seem
100 affected for me 10 participate in, but searching out instinctual formations
of unconventionality, sexual or not. has always been one of my biggest
passions.

Humphrey approached me on a fetish website under the username 'humpty-

dumpty.·and asked me if I had the capabilities to help him 'balloon in size. '
He had messaged me many times before I had decided lo reply; he is cager to
please me. For his profile picture, he appeared to be wearing a suit with his
chin pushed towards his collarbone and chest pushed out to suggest that he
was physically rounder than he naturally is.

We began to speak on Skype and I decided that he should order Indian

food, which would be followed by me ordering him to eat it over a video
call. Humphrey, or as \.Ve shall now call him, ' Humpty,' tol d me all about his
serious dedication to being fed. It is not so uncommon to hear of ' ll:eders,'
predominantly for the controversy surrounding the concept of both parties
getting erotic pleasure from making one half monstrously overweight. This
fet ish is best known for being associated with men feeding women, most often
resulting in a stereotype of misogynistic abuse both physically and sexually.

He had told me online that he was aiming to lose mobility from feeding --
that he was wil ling to relocate for this goal and that it was only through a
sadistic woman controlli ng and humiliating him that he could become ' the
fat pig that he 'd always dreamed of.' His weight gain would turn him into a
humiliating spectacle and it would be through the dominatrix's control that he
would become trapped inside of his body. This imprisonment within his own
flubbery skin was his obsession.

His lacklustre burger arrived, wobbling in size with a dry selection of chips
littering it. He went to pick up the milkshake but, before he had the chance,
I stopped him.
 DIN ING \VITI I 1IUMPTY Ol JMPTY

·Did I tell you that you could drink that?' I stared at him straight in the eyes
for the first time which made him sh iver fa intly before dropping his glance
to the noor.

'No, Mistress. I'm sorry, Mistress.'

· You can now.'

'Thank you, Mistress.'

'Start with the burger.'

·Thank you, Mistress.'

Humpty had already told me onlinc al l about how this has been an obsession
of his since as far back as he could remember. As a small chi ld, he has some
hazy reco llection of a nanny trying to get him out a high chair and him
getting stuck in there. The sensation of his body being too large to escape
stayed with him ever since. A few years later, he became vaguely ill . losing
weight and not putting any on for a few years. This enraptured him with
memories of the women in his family constantly trying to feed him. The
way he spoke felt like he was indulging me with special in fonn ation, as if I
should care or even fee l sorry for him.

11 umpty's sad, small hands grasped on to his burger. ·You look very beau ti fut
this evening. Mistress. '

I rolled my eyes and stared at the commuters walking in and out of Prct A
Manger as they ignored a woman begging through the window. Receiving a
compliment from a submissive is like receiving a really dated greetings card.
Good intentions but empty, with the ability to make you cringe.

'M istress. I have a question, but I would like your permission before asking. ·

'You have permission.'

·Thank you. Mistress. Are you a fema le supremacist?'

ror a moment, I thought that Humpty may have been trying to challenge me.
Say no and I'll lose a certain level or dom inance only to discover that he's a
 ED'S l>ll\ER

secret sexist, using th is set up to get his twisted revenge for women rejecting
him in his life. Or say yes and play into his fantas y, a rorm of flirt ing which
I didn't think he deserved.

·or course I'm not, because I'm not a fascist. I believe in equality, but
unfortunately its existence between the sexes is ridiculously far-retched,
even for the luckiest women. I love men.' I stopped and looked a l him.

·Well, the right men anyway. '

' You know, I'm ready lo give everything up for this. I 'll move away from
my friends and family, change my work so l only have to work from home.
This means no one will see the flabby mass that I become. l want to give you
control of my body."

' I know.' I said, meeting his beady eyes. 'You must realise that anything that
happens in my presence means that I am correct. Everything I do is good for
you. Do you consent to this')'

He was now halfway through his burger and I nonchalantly picked at my

crisp salad.

"Oh absolutely, Mistress. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity.
You are so wonderful and I am so pathetic! l can't believe ho\.v beautiful you
are. I am in awe of you. I have no lim its, but I know that you could push me
to them. I \\·ant you to punish me!·

There was something irritating about Humpty, the kind of annoyance that
you only get from really conventional people alter they get short tempered
when you misunderstand their simple desires. Or perhaps, it is the irritation
you fee l from someone whose opinions and taste you wholeheartedly know
you disagree with. An awareness that your own effort towards them can only
reach so far.

The concept of a subm issive coming from the place of cis male, \Vhite,
heterosexual, upper middle class pri vilege is endlessly fascinating. A total
role reversal from everything they've been fed. The individual who has
everything, every opportunity, every form of gratitude, then superficially
rejecting it as they please.
 Dll\IN(i WITH I llJMPTY DUMPTY

·Mistress. I \vant you to know that I hate male ego. I always have; I've even
slopped important friendsh ips because or it. '

He was about to start speaking again --

'Carry on eating,' I ordered.

'Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mi stress.'

Elvis Presley's version or· Hound Dog· started playing and no one in the
diner reacted to its sounds.

He finished his burger, wiping solidirying egg yolk from his chin and looking
at me timidly from below his eyebrows.

'Finish what you were saying but drink some more milkshake first.'

He was wearing a bland shirt. I wasn' t s ure if he had chosen to wear a shirt
a bit too s mall for him or not as the buttons started to stretch revealing
th e g rey or his T-shirt underneath . It is important to now mention that
Humpty is in no way overweight; he's really very average. In no way fit.
I !e's a bit loose: he definitely possesses small Ion: handles and lacks any
definition.

'Is this something you think you could achieve with me, Mistress? To make
me really very large?' he pleaded.

I purposely dodged eye contact with him and sighed.

·Yes, but it's a long-term goal. What has to change now is your att itude to
food . Before today, you've been photographing your meals for me. You are
eating an average amount of food. I sec photos where you have two pieces or
toast and a banana for break fast. I don't know how seriously you are taking
this. I can not tolerate you wasting my time. I've told you that you need to
be eating bacon, eggs. pancakes and such instead.'

'Oh, Mistress. I really am. I've already noticed the changes. My body already
reels looser since we began speaking on line last week, but what I really want
is a woman to have made me this huge. I can't do it alone. '
 ED'S D INER

Before we met, I made Humpty create a blog where he posted photos of all
of the meals he ate over the last week. It was true; his intake of food was
entirely average.

'You're not trying ha rd enough,' I affirmed.

' I want to please you, Mistress, but I recently read that processed meats can
cause cancer. I'd rather stick to healthier fats like avocado, nuts and yogurt
instead.'

I stared at Humpty severely, totally deadpan.

·Arc you wasting my time'?' I asked .

Humpty trembled melodramatically. ·No, Mistress. I would never waste

your prec ious time. '

Considering that Humpty wants to become so large that he cnn 't even leave
his bedroom, the idea of him rejecting ba<.:on was irritating <1l best.

Now it was time fo r his thin chips. I made him pour the baked beans over
them. By this point I'd already fi nished my salad and made a point of asking
the waitress come and collect my plate whi le Humpty struggled on.

Two men in office-appropriate clothing walked into the diner and sat at a
booth across from us. Humpty immediately seemed uncomfortable. He'd
asked me to choose a restaurant where it would be unlike ly thnt we'd see
anyone he knew, and that being served by a man would destroy his appetite.
I paid no attention to his verging annoyance at the new presence of men.

"There is something very frustrat ing about you. In one way, you arc besoned
with this idea but, on the other hand, you consider it with such calculation that
you are not only making it impossible for yourself but -- more importantly
-- impossible for me.·

' Mistress, I promise you that I am serious. I've thought about this forever.
This is a lifestyle feti sh. I've just been waiting to find the right woman to
help me!'

' Keep on eating.'

7
 DINING \VITI 11 ll l l'vlPTY DL:Ml'TY

'Thi s is starting to be a bit gross. the baked beans arc co ld, Mistress.· he said
with a slight moan.

' I don't care. Don't waste food.'

Hum pty was frustrating me even more. Submissives, in essence. are usually
irritating especially if they aren·1 bchaving correctly. But I couldn ·1 help
confusing my feelings for his gencral pathetic naturc with his elitism and
comfort. 1 began to wonder just how much of this was about him being
bored. So comfortable and accepted in everything in his li te that he has to
create an abnorm ality to chase. The il lness of a class-ridden masculinity
conformi ng to enterprising ideas and then morphing into an unconscious
eccentricity.

I ordered a black coffee and studied my new manicure. ' So, if you consider
your~e l f a
female supremacist, tel l me about the women you admire.'

1-k almost choked on his words. blurting out, ' Janis Joplin ,· then stopping to
rcconsider whether this would be an appropriate answer.

I roll ed my eyes.

'I am a great fan of women in music like Patti Smith and Debbie Harry. They
were fearless and original women in music. Mistress.·

Humpty was hard ly preaching the brnvery and integrity of women such as
the Suffragettes or Assata Shakur which only alluded to the poss ibility that
his interest in fomale supremacy was more of a fantasy th an something that
he actually \Vantcd to implement into society. I decidcd to ignore Humpty's
answer because it was a conversati on that instantl y fe lt futile. Out of
Humpty's entirely beige persona. his interest in New Wave music granted
him more of a personality... but whose fa vourite band is Blondie?

Humpty's plate of inauthentic food was becoming less and less appealing as
his pink hands dissected what was remaining on the plate. He told me once
that one of his all-time fantasies was to be humi liated in front of a female
waitress by a beautiful domrnc as she ordered his food for him . Prior to our
dinner. I'd called the diner requesting a woman to serve us .

The wa itress came over to collect Humpty's plate.

x
 CD'S DINER

·He really enjoyed gorging on that meal and I can assure you that he will
also be having <lessen.'

The waitress nervously laughed. Humpty's small bulging eyes stared at his
t:rumpled napkin in shame as we were both handed menus. I immediately
took the menu away from Hum pty, adding to hi s embarrassment, and then
traced my index finger over the laminated paper trying to work out which
dessert would be the most decadent, sickly and dense. A tension was growing
while I once again purposefully looked at the menu for too long, leaving
both Humpty and the waitress in si lence. I realised that it was now time to
push Humpty further. Wi thout taking my eyes away from the menu, I said:

' Why haven 't you thanked the waitress?'

I could sense Humpty's body quiver as he pathetically mum1ured a ·Thank

you.

Now 1 looked a l him.

'That is not good enough. Say it louder. Treat this woman with more respect
fo r what she has done for you.·

'Yes. thank you very much . The dinner was ddicious. Thank yo u fo r serving
me .

The waitress had no idea how to react, and to save her from any embarrassment,
I gave a her reassuring smile, then said, ' He will have the chocolate fudge
brownie with extra vanilla ice cream, and I'll just have another glass of
water, please.'

Once the waitress wa lked away, Humpty blurted out, ·Thank you, Mistress;
a fantastic choice, Mistress.·

I stared into Humpty's smal l eyes .

'There is something that I need to talk to you about. We have previously

discussed your political views. You have stated that you recently voted for
the Conservative Party in the last election. I am finding it difficult to connect
these traditional ideas with your interest for fetish and fe male em powemicnt.
Can you understand the dilemma between these concepts?'
9
 DINI NG WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

·Mistress, may I ask why you want to know about about my views? What
has it got to do with my feeding?'

· I must understand al l of my submissive 's views and social backgrounds to

truly grasp their mascul inity.'

Humpty coughed and nodded. Then something strange happened. Where

this submissive had been utterly obedient the whole evening. the aspects to
hi s life, which so far had only been stated as unfortunate advantages. started
to emerge. I was struck with that emotive fee ling when you n.:member that
the Roya l fam ily actua lly exist.

'We ll. Mistress. I knew that this current political party would do the best that
it could for the market. In no way could the Labour party save our economy.'
Humpty pushed his shoulders back. seemingly becoming mon: relaxed and
contident in his blue blooded delivery.

' Ir a country is financially stable, which Aritain has not been -- then the
whole country can progress together. But these cuts lo the government
budget have had to happen.'

Of course, Humpty 's ideas made sense to him because a ruthlessly neoliberal
Conservative government only advantages his future. Meanwhile the rest of
contemporary Britain has to face the burden that we still have a class system
and its harrowing divisions are more regimented than ever.

Humpty's ecstatic deli very into his selfish dialogue felt like cement being
poured into my soul. Could people really be this resolute in their damaging
views? As more and more women die because our govemrnent's domestic
violence services arc dwindling countrywide, women are increasingly dying
al the hands of their violent partners.

Homelessness is rising to dystopian levels. An unprecedented amount of

people are dependent on food banks -- whether they be indi viduals unfit
to work, forced to endure arduous work days because of benefit cuts, or
people unable to bear the growing indignity or unemployment -- Humpty's
ignorance was blazing.

His dessert arrived and. as the wa itress placed his plate on the table and
Humpty admired the food, I noticed the two men opposite us stare at the
10
 ED'S DINER

waitress and si lently congratulate each other for their mutual inspection of
her body.

I gavl! him permission to start. As I watched his bab) -bluc shirt bulge and
the touskd, rnousy hair float above his fleshy head. I ckcided there was only
one din:ction to take this relationship.

Through dom ination, it was going to be my job to turn him into a socialist.

A form or compassion towards my submissive, this transformation would

not only notably benefit him but also society at large. Ir it is his desire to
pleast: mt:, what could possibly please me more than him becoming a more
considerate and progressive human?

How much would I enjoy challenging his fa ntasy ot"tcmale empowerment'?

Is there rea lly anyth ing more atrocious than someone using a political issue
as a sexual fa ntasy, but then not practicing it in their life?

·This is delicious, Mistress,' a small globule or ice cream dribbled at the

comc::r or his th in mouth.

·You know how much you want to make me happy, don' t you?'

'Oh yes. Mistress, seei ng you happy makes me happy. I would do anything
for you.' He sa id these words with a level of total, disgusting sycophantism.

'Good. Then I \Vant you to explore this idea ol' fc nrnlc supremacy more.'

His eyes widened and he seemed excited in a way that only a private school
boy could be capable of.

·Mis tress. that would be fantastic. Thank you so much, Mistress.'

· 1 want you to write me an essay on a woman that you admire and send it to
me by midnight.'

·oh. Mistress, that would be so very exciting and ru lll lling. You have the
best ideas and you are so very clever.'

11
 DINI NG WITll I llJMPTY DIJMPTY

As Humpty \Vas finishing the last few mouthfuls of his du ll dessert. I asked
1he waitress for the check.

·Mistress. I must say. I am impressed by how dominant you are. I wasn't

initially knowing what to expect. It ·s always a bit of a risk when meeting a
dominatrix for the first time.'

Ignoring him , I inspected my long red nail s. /\s a young teenager, I remember
when I first began to understand my own views. How can an opinion be
thorough i ryou don 't surround yoursel rwith as many peopl e fro m as many
di tlcrcnt backgrounds as possible? You have to understand everyone and
then decide what matters to you. Cou ld this be any more true wi thi n this
scenario?

As the waitress walked towards us wi th the check, I stood up and pulled my

coat on. She handed him the card reader and placed his card in the machine
as I did my buttons up.

'G ive me your wallet.' He immediate ly handed it to me and I took out some
notes then handed them to the waitress.

·Thank you for giving us such a wonderful evening.'

Then I looked at Humpty.

Tm going now, do not contact me again until you've fini shed the piece of
writing.'

Humpty sh uddered in embarrassment and blood rushed to his creamy

sa lmon-coloured face. His mouth was sti ll full. Not expecting my sw i tl
departure, and not knowing whether to ask me to wait with him as he paid or
not, he looked truly pathetic. I smiled at the waitress and thanked her while
blanking Humpty and walking out of the diner.

12
ED'S DINER
 ESSAY NUMBER 1
Greetings Goddess, below is a more contemporary example from modern
cinema history.

Thank you for taking the time to read it.

Sincerely,
H

.Jodie Foste1; who played a character called Clarice Starling in Jonathan

Demme.\ 1991 masterpiece 'The Silence <?/the Lamhs · tran.~/'ormed how
women have heen conducted in cinema. Clarice Starling 1vas a trne./emale
hemine. she overcame the many challenges that came her way as a female
FBI agent. which 1ras o 1·e1:1· male e11viro111111!nt .f(>r a \\'Oman to 1rork in '"
the time. This problem hffame even more realistic in the way the director
compared her and the male FBI agents in the opening scene. In this scene. she
is in an elevator with afew men whose head,- are our of'shot as the elevator
door doses. Once they reopen only Clarice remains. which .fi.>reshadowed
the end olthefilm -- a hrilliant a/legOFy created hy Demme.

There are many other moments in the .film that allude to these themes of'
female strength. for example. it is only Clarice 1rho is adventurous enough
to go head to head with /-/a1111ihal lecter a11d h<!lp solve the case. She saves
the Ji.~male captive and. of' course, herse(fjl·om the terrifj1ing Buff'alo Bill
-- hecause she is a woman. 81!{/iilo Bill :s· unhealthy -- and.frankly psychotic
-- ohsession ivith becoming a woman becomes his dml'i?f'all because he lets
her/ire at him .first. A man in that scenario would lwi:e ./(11/en shorf. fi1iled
and pmhab(r been killed due lo lacking Clarice\- ;uJwer as a woman.

Ho1l'eve1:.fhr me the most astonishing achie1.·emelll <~(the.film (<~(which there

are 111a1~y including a cll!an sweep o.l all top 5 Academy Award categories
thaf year including 'Be.,·1 Picture') is Jodie Fosler \/iJcus on fi1ci11g her mvn
issues hy adapting the initial novel into a screl'11f>lt~y with her production
cm111mny which isf(1scinaling hecause she had in/(111t heen the tmger o/rwo
murderous stalkers herse(/'1l'hile she was at Vale hffause t~fher controversial
role as a child prosfiture in tire incredible mo,·ie - Taxi Driver ( 1976)

14
Ultinwte~r I am o higfon <?fher.fur her recug11itio11 the depth and greatness r~l
the a111/10rs clwrac/ers and 11·orking !hem i1110 1his.fi/111. The novel deserved~r
is heraldl!d as some vf 1he hest literofllre <~(the ]0th ce11tw:1-.

L'11do 11htl!d~I'. she is a pioneering \\'O /Jl(/11 1rhu has JWl'ed tl11! 1rny fbr many
more JJ01re1:fit! .fi!11wle characters in .film such as Nicole K idma11. Angelina
Jolie lllul Clwrli::e Theron and many. many others out there today.

15
<:.: --~

. '· ··----------s--------~
I decided to be half an hour late to our early evening dinner date the
fo llowing week. As expected, I had called earlier in the day reserving a
table for two and requesting a wa itress rather than a waiter. Jamie's Italian
is a restaurant close by to Ed's Diner al a junction that meets traffic from
Kings Cross, Hackney, Shoreditch and Holborn. It is in anot her brand new
building built in 2011 that acts as a s ix-story office block, except for the
ground floor frontage \.vherc a vari ety of chain restaurants are placed. This
restaurant is one of the many crea ted by the much loved, fam ily-friendly
Briti sh celebrity chef, Jam ie Ol ive r.

It once agai n only felt right to find somewhere that aligned with Humpty's
personality for our next dining experience. While I was researching one of
the many mid-priced stagnant eateries in this parti cular area of London, I
was info1111ed that Jam ie's Italian is a chain of twenty-seven in the UK and
a tota l of forty worldwide, with two in the city's financial districts, Canary
Wharf and Li verpool Street, as wel l as one in Gatwick Airport, the tourist
pop ular areas of Piccadilly Circus and Co vent Garden. as well as a few
in commuter towns like St. Albans, Tunbridge Wells and Gui lford. Most
impressively, however, Jami e O liver has opened restaurants in Abu Dhabi,
Dubai, Ta iwan, Brazi l and Ind ia.

Walking through the heavy glass doors of the restaurant, an obnox ious
street art painting of a woman 's eyes peered down at me. l was perplexed
by it. How had it got there? Had the interior designer of the restaurant
commissioned a ·graffiti artist' to make it? Or had they stolen it off the
street? The control led dim light ing was distracted by big flas hing lights
that sai d 'BAR' attached to reproduced I 970s wallpaper.

There was a song playing loudly, but not too loudly -- its volume was just
about tolerable. I couldn ' t quite work out what the song was, but it was
fam iliar; I knew the woman 's voice like I know the back of my hand, but
I couldn't name her. It didn 't sound like anything that I would usually
associate with.

17
 DINING WITI I 1IUMPTY Dl JMl'TY

I then realised that it was a remix of a song that shou ld never have been
allowed to be altered -- it was a EDM vers ion or Arclha Franklin's
'Respect.'

Aretha's voice was being tuned in and out or locus, her pitch being
stretched to robotic lapses, cul up then overridden with c hilled out sirens
and twangs of jittcring guitars. T he n her voice would be overlapped with
he r own voice, muffled and creeping up in volume with accompanying
hand claps, which weren't actually the sounds or human ha nds meeting,
but some kind o f sound made on a compute r.

The remix, with its painful and obnoxiously obscured vocal crescendo ,
teased its listeners w ith some k ind or orgasm ic release un til her voice
became clear again. As Aretha's voice was being tuned out, the instrumenta l
horns of the song jumped out with an unnecessary aggression. A n overly
cheerful w aitress popped up to greet me.

' Why, hello! You look fabulou s. I love your coat. whe re did you get it?! Do
you have a reservation with us today?'

It was clea r that her communicat ion with me was rehearsed. a side effect
of staff training from the Jamie Oliver handbook.

'Thank you. Yes, I'm a little late. It was a table for two under the name
Re becca. The person I am meeting is a lready here. '

The waitress gu ided me through the busy restaurant. The amount or effort
gone int o the interior design is pai n ful in its contrived manufacture.
Almost every table has different 20th century-era chairs. They have
attempted to bring a warehouse feel to the large space with sparse
dangling lights and corrugated metal stairs to different mezzani ne
levels. A coup le o f dried hams hung from the walls to reconnect with the
apparently rustically Italian experience that was on offer. T his a ttempt
at a random and laboured quirkiness failed miserab ly as the building
was s urrounded by twenty-foot windows with a s cene o l' anothe r g lass
office block.

I peered around the room but cou ld n't sec Humpty anywhere. The
waitress couldn ' t fi nd him eithe r. For a moment, I' d comrlctely forgotten
what he looked like. I inspected the other diners: A ta ble or women w ith

IX
 JAMI E'S ITALIAN

straightened blonde hair wearing identical pashrn inas and g lasses of pink
prosecco giggled; groups of tourists peered at their m1;:nus; bored w hite
couples in suits sta red at their phones rather than at one another.

Finally, behind a column in the come r of the restaurant. there was Humpty.
His vaguely heavy body was trapped in an ill-fitting navy V-neck sweater
as he sat at the sma ll table for two uncomfortab ly. I thanked the waitress
a nd stood beh ind my cha ir glaring down at h im for a whi le. There were
two other tables the s ame size as ours; either side of us was occupied by
couples wearing s hirts.

' I' d fo rgotten what you looked like,' l said. After all , it was true.

'l ' rn sorry for be ing so uninterest ing, Mistress.'

I laughed under my breath .

' Don't apologise. You can't help it; it would be tragic for you lo try and be
anything other than mediocre.'

·Thank you, M istrcss. you are right. I had to ask to be moved. Mistress. the
other table was too close to male diners. l felt as if it \\'Ould have ruined my
a ppetite. I hope thi s doesn 't upset you too much. '

Ignoring Humpty. I s lipped off my coat and sat down, the couples from
ei ther side or us subt ly g lanced a t w hat an odd pairing we seemed to be. I
sat up st raight a n<l r icked up the men u while Humpty ne rvously worked
out how to behave a round me. Unsurprisingly, the me nu was equall y as
condescending as the rest of the restaurant's outpu t. Varying typefaces sat
a longside one anothe r and the menu diverted from class ic Italian dishes to
trend-focused supcrfood salads and Italian versions of things like burgers
and nachos. A new waitress arrived a t our table. I sm iled at her, changing
my body la nguage lo race her.

'How are you both this evening?' s he c hirped in a Spanish accent.

I darted my stare tu I lumpty, making him aware that he wasn't going to be

al lowed to interact ,,·ith her.

19
 DINING Wl'l'll I II JMl'TY DUMPTY

·1·m very well, thank you, however, he is very, very hungry this evening.
In fact. it's all he·s been talking about all day. It gets boring with hi m
talk ing about food all the time. so now that you ·re here, \\'e'll finally we
able to sh ut him up!·

The wa itress laughed with me, a lmost instantly aware that Humpty was
there to be patronised. I was impressed.

'S o, I suppose he' II be wanting a starter then?'

'You read my mind, what woul d you suggest was the heaviest appetiser?'

The waitress leaned over my shoulder and pointed at the deep-fried

prosciutto and ricotta croquettes. I nodclccl, then proceeded to order myself
some olives and the drinks.

'For him,' I sa id, pointing my finge r at Humpty in a way that couldn ' t be
considered as anything other than rude. 'He will have the cheapest beer
you have, and I shall have a glass or the most expensive champagne that
you have. He shal l have tap water and I will have mineral water please. I'll
also want to be keeping a hold of the menu to chose his next meal.'

Once the waitress had walked ofl Humpty tried to compliment me on my

outlit but I cut him off before he had the chance.

·1 read your essay about Jod ie Foster in 'Silence of the Lambs,' and I must
tell you. I'm not happy.'

Humrty's eyes darted to the table in fear.

' I'm sorry, Mistress. May I ask what was wrong with it?'

·Your efforts are superficial and bland.·

'What do you mean by that, Mistress'.''

'Why would I give you that much 0r an advantage? You need to work that
out ror yourse lf.·

'Yes, Mistress. You are right. I do not deserve your attention like that.'
 JAMI E'S ITALIAN

I was wearing a long filled silk 1930s green dress with a metal neck lace
my mum ha<l got me when she was last in India and a choker that read
M !STRESS in diamantc w ith black PVC boots. I suddenly realised that my
choice or outfit was making Humpty uncomfortable, but excited, around
the other di ners. I fi nd dressing ·as a dom inatrix ' too gimmicky, but enjoy
elements or it so I was " ·caring the c lothes that I'd wear on any other given
day. Humpty thought I was -- how would he put it? ·Arty?'

The waitress brought our drinks over. and once she left, Humpty raised hi s
g lass and said:

' Cheers.'

I looked at his glass fo r a moment, then at my manicure, and took a sip o r

my champagne . I could se nse his hand hanging heavy in the a ir. He had
clearly done this to appear more normal in front of the other diners.

'You know tha t you aren't eating enough, don't you? Did you really have
a cereal bar for break fast this morn ing? The whole point of you making
this blog is so that I can monitor your intake; l feel like this is all a game
to you.'

I le self-consci ous ly put his glass back on the table.

'Mistress. it is not~ How can I prove my dedication to you and to gaining?

Since we began speaking two weeks ago, my body feels so much more
plump and I love it. I've told you that I must take precautions for my
health. l ,,·ant to gain in the most responsible way possib le. A few months
ago, I was speak ing to a feeder on line in America who told me all about
exerc ise techniques to prepare the body for mass weight gain. You kno\\',
Mistress. I shall ha ve to make sure that my spine is very strong to support
my new body. ·

Instead or properly listen ing to Humpty, I eavesdropped into the

conversation to my right. The couple were discussing the di fferent boxsets
they were plan ning to watch that month. Although Humpty has never had
a romantic relati onship that has lasted longer than a couple of months due
to his obsession w ith finding a woman to feed him, this doesn 't bother him.
The starters arrived at an unnatural speed and, before the waitress had a
chance to tend the n:st o r the busy restaurant, I spoke to her.
21
 DIN ING WITI I lllJMPTY DUMPTY

'Oh, look! He is going to love pi gging out on those. '

I met Humpty's eyes, 'Aren't you?·

He stroked the back of' his head, watching his meal.

'Yes, thank you ever so much. They look terribly delicious. ·

I gave him permission to begin . I lis hand trembled extravagantly as it held

the fork to his mouth, and when he swallowed his first bite. he exhaled
heavily as if he 'd just been caught doing something wrong. like watching
porn on his phone at work. except his tit ill ation was o,·er a pretentiously
decorated se lection of doughy squares on a wooden slab interlaced with a
tomato relish.

Aside from Aretha Franklin's piece of' sabotaged brill iance playing when
I arrived, the rest of the music had di ssolved into a mix or songs that
'everyone knows.' Then something dreadfu l happened.

A song by Coldplay started.

This may sound sensational, but this music actually makes me feel vaguely
physically ill, as if somethi ng is itching under my skin. The unadulterated
monotony of the singer's digestibl e emot ion , accompanied by intolerably
docile guitar music, feel s like an offence to my senses. I do not believe
in their proc lamations of inner turmoil , and I honestly don ' t understand
how anyone can.

'Mistress, I don't know if this will interest you or not. but I actually \Vent
to the same school as Chris Martin!'

I focused back onto the dinner and s1arcd at Humpty. Is it possible to have
an allergy to mainstream hctcronormativity'? Because if there is. I think
that t.hi s was what I was starting 10 cxperit.:ncc.

' You are incapable of impressing me and your taste disgusts me.'

I knew that Humpty wasn' t entirely to blame for the evils of blinkered and
mundane conserva1ivc li,·ing hut he was certa in ly the closest I'd come to
it since I le ft the village I'd grown up in.
 JAM IE'S ITALIAN

'Keep on stufling your lace, Piggy.' The words foll out of my mouth before
I'd even fo rmulated them in my head.

' Mistress. I hope you won't mind me asking this, but arc you partially
mixed race? There is something so beautifully, but vaguely exotic about
you ... but I can't put my finger on what it is.'

My Coldplay-enhanced trance of vapid abandon had enabled Humpty to

become more relaxed in his conversation with me. Had Humpty just used
the word ·exotic'? 1 thought that I may have been too cruel, even for a
dominatrix, but no. It was true. His vulgarity v.;as tangible.

My ethni c ity was arousing to him as long as il was di lu ted. How was
I meant to dissect my actual di slike of Humpty with 111y fi ctitious one?
I low was I meant lo use my rare position of power to do good without
compromising my real sentiments of dislike?

Humpty recognised my si lence and tried to start another conversation

with me. However, this felt as if it \Vas to be aimed more at the fact that
he was nervous of \\·hat he thought the male diners sitting close to us
were thinking.

"Mi stress . I almost wasn ' t hungry this evening. I was so nervous and <:xcited
about meeting you that my stomach has been in knots all day, but these
are delicious.'

1lumpty had almost decimated his starter and •..vas pntting his shapeless
lips self consciously with his heavy cotton napkin.

I began lo wonder how I could subtly begin to interrogate Humpty for

his sheltered lilc. His atlcmpcs at proving his admiration ror the female
spec ies were falling short.

' Do you have any gay or queer friends? I ask this because you've articulated
a strong dis li ke of extroverted male ego.'

·well, Mistn:ss, I did actually have one at Uni.·

·And why arcn ' t you friends with them anymore? '
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

'I don't know.'

The waitress returned, cutting off our conversation, and I smiled at her.

'As you can see. he reall y enjoyed himself. He couldn·t have gobbled them
down any foster. However, unsurprisingly, he is still very hungry.·

I purposefully became far more animated when speaking to the waitress.

'I have already decided what he will be eating next: the spaghetti l3olognese
\Vi th an entire loafof garlic bread and a side of parmesan. Where l 'm being
health-conscious and less gluttonous, so please can I have the superfood
salad?'

I had directed Humpty to not interact with the waitress, and as I ignored
him while l ordered, I suddenly noticed him taking a glimpse or my
chest out of the corner or my eye. He realised that I'd caught him and he
knew that there was no getting out of it. Before she went to turn away, I
commanded Humpty.

'I need you to tell the this woman why you are here today.'

He clenched his hands on his napkin and exhaled heavily out of his nose
while staring at the tea light.

'I-le hasn't been well behaved, you see, and he wants to tell you why he is
here. I think you will enjoy hearing his story.'

The waitress laughed and fingered the corner of the menu that she was
holding, and we both stared at Humpty. He looked meeker than usual
under the glow or the table's candle.

'Go on!' I ordered. He started at the table cloth and sighed.

' I am here because I want her to tell me what to eat.' The words blurted
out of his mouth so fast that it was as if he didn ' t want the waitress to hear
what he had said.

I shook my head and provoked a smile from the waitress.

24
 JAMIE'S ITAI.IAN

'There is some truth in what he is saying. As we can see, he is only here to

be fed, but he has le ft something very importan t out. You understand that
most men arc feeble and real ly just want to be controlled under the power
of women, don ' t you'.' '

The waitress smiled with me; she was obviously a littk taken aback by the
situation but clearl y found Humpty annoying too. She seemed comfortable
in ridicu ling him with me. An energy of appreciation for one another
quickly became apparent, and Lhat happens so rarely with other women,
but it is so important.

'He is here because he cal ls himself a fem ale s upremacist. l)o you thin k
that he is a ll:male supremacist? '

I knew Lhal the waitress didn 't have an answer to that question. I looked
at hi111 .

·You don't deserve that tenn; you are not good enough to be associated
with that idea.'

·No, I don' t. I must learn how to really appreciate women and I can only
hope that I am able enough to learn it from you if you are willing.'

' Thank the waitress again and apologise for embarrassing her.'

' 1 am sorry that you have had to experience me and thank you for
serving me

She walked off while trying to keep herself from laughing and he sighed
deeply with his head hanging down. Taking a sip of my champagne, I checked
the text messages on my phone for a forced period or uncomfortable si lence.

'Are you full?' I was still looking at my phone while I spoke.

'Yes, Mistress, I am a little. I can' t wait to achieve that orgasmic feel ing of
being bloated when I get home, but really I would like us to gel to a point
where you could cook for me at my home. I Jove the feminine sensuality
of cooking; it is so seductive. Even better would be if you could rub my
stomach for me after I've eaten.'

25
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

I took another sip of champagne and stared out of the window, making him
aware that I was ignoring his question. Humpty's desires lo gain weight is not
just sensory. He told me that he wants to morph into a grotesque pile of fat.

Generations of women's daily lives have been inundated with extreme

pressures to conform to impossible standards of physical embodiment to
the point that just thinking about it creates a direct stress between boredom
because it is a subject so commercially objectified, and despair. because
it is so frustratingly real. But for Humpty. these issues don't really exist.
A man can be fat and face only a fraction of the bullying, shaming and
confidence issues that a woman would. A fantasy of pure indulgence.

'Mistress, I am a little worried. I've been thinking intently about my career

moves. Ir I am fat, there is the potential that I won't be able lo make as
many business deals -- will people take me as seriously?'

'Whal is more important to you? Your weight gain or how people perceive
you?'

' Well, Mistress. I must calculate the economic reality of this plan. I am
also aware that I wi II have to visit my family next month and I know that
they will comment if they see that I've put on weight.'

'If you really wanted it. you would just do it.'

I felt a tingling irritation run from my gut again.

'Are you taking your opportunity with me for granted? Why are you
considering all or these unnecessary aspects to your weight gain? You
shouldn't care what people think of you. I was under the impression that
you had wanted this forever. You have to start somewhere.'

'Oh, I have, Mistress. This is just a massive risk to take; everything must
be calculated. Now that I've found you and you are willing to help me, I
can't believe my luck. I am utterly enamoured by you and the possibi lities
that can now materialise.·

'There is nothing wrong with being overweight. If you are really serious
about this, you arc going to have to act rather than over-analyse. This is
insulting to me.'
26
 JAMIE'S ITALIAN

Considering that his work teeters around the fllm industry, he had once
claimed to me over Skype that his favourite film is ··Jaws," a story about
a beast feed ing on humans that profited extraordinarily well at the box
office. Until the release of .. Star Wars, .. "Jaws" was actually the highest
grossi ng lilm of al l time. Besides from its huge financial success, it also
predominantly feat ures whi te men with no one of colour and very quickly
di scards its fema le characters to the mouth of the shark . It 's a story about
a relentlessly terrifying consumption.

'Yes, Mis tress, I am sorry -- you are always right. Please, may I ask you
another question?'

'Quickly.' I replied.

'Thank you, M istrcss. Do you remember when you told me on line that you
want to discarded my sexuality and gender? Just so I become a big bulging
lump of fot'? I must admit thi s has made me very excited.'

'Your masrn linity holds too much power and your sexuality is something
that receives pleasure -- both are things that you definitely do not deserve.
You th ink that you are so special, that your fet ish is so unique. It is not.
You bore me.·

Humpty dreams of dehumanisation. He would bewme excited when I told

him that I wanted to disintegrate his machismo. He had prev iously told
me that he would only ever enjoy masturbation when he had gorged to
the point or feeling immobile, his stomach lining stretching and his body
ossified and llcshy in its bloating. A form of sexuality that can on ly ever
self-satisfy -- as selflsh as it is decadent.

··- - ~?t"~:;:-> .
v- -

27
 DINING WITH 1llJMPTY DUMPTY

Our main course arrived . The waitress seemed excited to sec how her
appearance would disrupt Humpty.

·oh look. that is a lot or food for one person, isn 't it? Would it be possible
that you don 't collect hi s plate until he has finish ed everything on it?' I
leaned over the table and took the parmesan and started sprink ling it over
his faux blue china plate as if he was a child.

The waitress fi lled our glasses with ice water. ·of course 1 can do that. Is
there anything else I can get for the both of you?·

' That will he all for now, thank you, but please ... Could you c heck up aga in
on us soon?'

I started to cat my over-compensated salad and decided lo ignore him agai n.

Privil ege is a word overstated in contemporary discourse; it appears

everywhere to the point that it bears the most intense stress. Using it
in conversation can be percei ved as an attack -- however much you
acknowledge yo ur own fortunes. there is an undeniable uneasiness at
its core.

I began to wonder how aware Humpty was of his privilege. I had a strong
notion that he would think that he had ·earned· it and that hard ,,·ork \\·as
the answer to al l of life's problems. Or, possibly, he wou ld lament over
how he couldn ' t have he lped being born white, male bodied and wealthy?

' Mistress, how close these other men are to us is making me uneasy. I
don't thin k like 1 am enjoying my meal as much as I would be ir thcrc \Vere
j ust women arou nd us. ·

' Life is not a fan tasy; men take up half of the population.' My annoyance
with Humpty was becoming truer and Jess of what I was being paid for.
·Keep on eating.'

I lumpty's face was simultaneously shadm.ved and illuminated by the

nocturnal urban visuals from outside . Number 38 buses streamed past the
restaurant and the traffic lights went from red to amber to green. Wh ile the
semi-romantic mood ligh ting of the restaurant \\'Oul cl be fi ne at another
given time. with Humpty. his perspiring chewing fa ce looked monstrous.
28
 JAMI E'S ITA I.11\N

His small eyes. fl imsy lack of any sharpness or definition and eyebrows
that disappeart:d into his pa le, short forehead mu tated him into the most
visceral image or greedy blankness.

· How about larger women? Are you attracted to them'> I need to understand
your thoughts on this.·

·1 usua lly date slim girls. I've been with a few l3 13W women when I've
been drunk, but I haven't enjoyed chat as much. I want to be the bigger one,
so being with a larger lady makes me fee l less desirable.'

Somehow, my sa lad tasted of nothing and everything. The ardent normalcy

of the restaurant and my company seemed to be growing -- expanding into
some sort of terribly passive plague. Mick Jagger and Dav id Bowie's 1985
vers ion or Mart ha and The Vandellas' "Dancing in the Streets" came on.
T hese two totems of white male genius were beginn ing to age and sell out
when this was released and it couldn 't have sounded more obvious -- like
someone scream ing and wai ling for attention in a busy room rather thanthe
original's euphorically uncomplicated sound.

l3owic had onl y passed away the week before and, as much as I respect
and enjoy him , this was definitely not the highlight or his complex and
momentous career. These two musicians will always be immortalised and
adored but this copy of the song probably made more money for them than
it ever did for Motown.

In fac t, tht::ir ve rsion went to number seven in the US c harts and number
one in the UK charts, where Reeves' original only met number two in the
l3illboard Hot 100 and number four at the UK charts in 1965. Marvin Gaye
co-wrote it and it is known as being an important dance single that evoked
the Ci\·il Rights movement.

··Danc ing in the Streers .. was manipul ated by major press channels as a
song that singkd rioting in the streets beca use 11. Rap Brown of the Bl ack
Panthers would play the song at meetings. Where it had originally been
intended as a unify ing and joyous song, inspired by the idea that whatever
you were experienci ng and wherever you were, you didn ·1 have to feel
alone in your experience, certain radio stations took it off air for fea r that
it could arouse pol it ica l unrest. I began to imagine Mick Jagger 's lanky
body wiggk to hi s '8 0s re-appropriation and cringed.
29
 DININ(i WITI I HUMPTY DUMPTY

' You knm-v, Mistress. it 's s uch a shame that we lost such an icon like
Bo...vie. He was a man who did so much to change the direction of the
expectations of men.·

I agreed with Humpty. I understood him but I also could sec that his
appreciation of Bowie didn't really influence his life. His wh ite shirt
sprouting from underrn:ath hi s nnvy V-neck sweater was barely evoking the
reactionary extroversion of Ziggy Stardust. After all , what is inspiration if
you don't act on it'?

·what shou ld I cat next, Mistress?' Humpty asked.

I pointed at the bread. He eagerly picked it up, gnawing away at its edges,
and I carried on ignoring him.

Humpty 's fontasy of gaining weight, which is to be dictated by a woman, was

beginning to feel more maternally responsible than sexually empowering.
I don ' t believe that Humpty's sexuality is anything to be ashamed of;
initially, I felt comfortable with it because it didn't immediately objectify
women -- not in the same way that, perh aps, sexual media exploits women.
But I really don't want to be hi s mother.

His declarations that women are above men still demands a fo rm of

protective and nurturing lcminin ity from me that he isn't capable of
inciting natura lly in his relationships. He wants a woman to care for him
in one of the most primitive ways possible: to feed him .

Alt hough Humpty thinks th at he was putting me in a position of

emancipation, he was actually regress ing me to an archaic but fetishised
female stereotype: the strict mother or teacher. A stereotype that boys grow
out of as they age; a fantasy that is limited to time, a time when young men
are not able to care for themselves. A fantasy which is only a fantasy and
not something Humpty actually wanted to have to compete with.

Many submissivcs crave this bu t also possess an honesty where their

respect for women is in herent. However, Humpty's illusions of respect
were dissolving much like the beads of food-induced sweat rolling down
his temples.

JO
 JAIVll E'S IT/\ LI AN

Our corporeal embodiment is anxious; our physicality is vulnerable, more

delicate than many like to admit. The body has its own agenda and our
power over that is limited. However. there is nothing vulnerab le about
Humpty or the leisurely use of his body. He wants to create the fa cade
or vulnerability through being around dominatrixcs and the fantasy of
making himself physical ity immobile but he is happy to switch it off when
he reels he's being challenged too much or that his lux urious fantasy might
actua lly have consequences for his outstandingly secure life. How was
I supposed to push Humpty now? I low was I meant to respect him as n
human but also force him to face hi s de pressingly paroch ial world?

·oo you li ke thi s song'?' I asked.

Humpty looked up at me while chewing on his garlic bread.

· Ans\vcr me. ·

' I'vc had some good nights out when it ·splayed,' he mumbled. ' But I know
that your taste is far more sophi sticated and wide-ranging than mine.'

There was a s nideness to Humpty's response, as i r his feel ings for me were
changing and he was no longer playing into his adorati on of my 'female
supremacy.' Shooting him a sober look, he knew that I could unpick even
the slightest variations of his deli very.

'What do you mean by that?'

'Wel l, you know, you're a mill ennia l, creati ve type.'

Patronising.

It was the only way to describe how he'd del ivered that condescending
statement.

Coughing casually, I straightened my back and fold ed my anns.

' Was that an insult'?' I asked.

'No, Mistress, it is simply j ust an observati on.' He began to back down; he

was enjoy in g my strictness and retracted bac k into a himself.
:; 1
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DIJMPTY

I wasn't even sure what a millennial was; it felt like one of those buzzwords
that is never actually spoken in person, only ever read on a screen. All I
knew was that it was scornful. Humpty was roughly seven or eight years
older than me, an age gap that was close enough for us to relate to one
another but also a safe enough distance where we didn't have that much
in common.

However, ifl am a millennial, the only aspect of this term that I understand
is that it encompasses a generation of people who won't be able to escape
a failed economic system that will spew an endless torrent or instability
unless they 're born into wealth -- which I certainly haven't been.

' Mistress, I wish I'd found you earlier. I really can't quite believe that I've
finally found someone who understands me. It's been such a long journey
to get here.'

I felt nothing for Humpty. No sympathy, no connection . nothing.

I knew that his parents had bought him his flat and that he rented it out on
AirBnB when he went away.

'Twas also thinking, Mistress. as we will be going into this as a long-term

arrangement, we •viii have to construct a more affordable \vay for me to
tribute to you. I can't keep on paying for these dinners and your company
like this.'

I am always understanding towards a submissive 's linancial situations and

work around whichever submissive I have, but it was clear that Hun1pty
was tight with his money even though he had a lot of it.

'This isn't to say that I am not respectful or your services for me.'

Sex and food arc two of the most popular sources or pleasure and
Humpty fully immerses himself in both or these physical comforts while
simultaneously refusing to fully occupy himself within them. Forever
sitting on a wall, incapable of truly dedicating himself to his Mistress or
his weight gain. Conservative to his very core.

What is pleasure to Humpty? Food and sex? lsn 't pleasure one of the most
fascinating words under modern capitalism'? It is a concept that 'the market'
:n
 J,\\11E'S ITt\Llt\N

(as Humpty puts it) is constantly trying to manipu late for us but, really, it is
something unbearably personal. How we create ou1· O\Vn pleasure may be
one of the most private and unique aspects of our individua lity. Ir this was
one of Humpty's a ll-time fa ntasies, why was he complain ing to me about
how much it was costing him? I didn't have the energy to accuse him of
being ungenerous so I ignored his question.

' Keep on ca ti ng,· I orde red.

When beginning a re lationship with a submissive, it is of' utter importance

to con nect \Vi th them with as much integrity as possib le -- to gain trust and
to discover what you like about them. If you arc going to be role-playing,
a form of domination over someone where there is pn:uy much always a
penchant for verbal or physical degradat ion, you must discover something
likeable about them. This isn'tjust for them , but more so for yourself.

There is nothing gratifying about abusing people -- even if it is fabri cated

--and, without a personal barrier, it is more than 1.:asy to nav igat1: into a
downward spiral of anger and depression. When a submissive tells you
that he adores you . it is utterly impersona l because in front of them you are
always a character. For example. it is rare that a submissive actually ever
knows anything persona l about me other than my control ling alter ego, so
hmv can anyone really love you when their fixation is invented? How can
you real ly hate someone when your di slike is based on sn little?

Your exertions of sternness. vexation and disappointment cannot be real

and keeping those make-believe emotions and your persona l ones separate
is what the submissive is paying for. It is a job.

Humpty was nearing the end of his pasta and brt:ad and I'd only eaten
half of my salad to exaggerate his greediness. The waitn:ss returned and I
asked her to take my plate. I ord1.: red his dessert, a vanil la cheesecake wit h
ice cream, and for myse lf: a black coffee.

Humpty coughed, fo rk in hand, and sa id, ·Do you hat1: men, Mistress? '

I am asked this one powerful quest ion more than any other one by
submissives. To them, it is the ulti mate flirtation. If there is a fetish for a
woman be ing strict, cruel and dom inant, why isn't th ere one for women
being calm, thoughtful and virtu ous? Even thoughtfu lly emotional ?
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

'No, I do not hate men. That is regressive.' This wasn't necessaril y what he
wanted to hear but I didn ' t care.

'Do you hate me, Mistress?' He was asking the same question with a
performed vulnerability, only the word 'men' had now lost its last syllable.

' There is a complexity to how pathetic you are.'

An irritating smirk curled up h is top skinny lip until it completely

disappeared and all I could see was him gums; he was clearly flattered
that I'd called him complex, because after all wh ich great man
isn't complex'?

'It's been so tough for me, Mistress, to harbour this secret, to not fully be
able to be who I want to be. I have reg ularly felt notions of embarrassment,
which I calculate would eventually lead to me feeling shame if anyone was
to find out. No one really understands me.'

He was opening up to me with a weird tensity of genuine truth and deluded

priv ilege.

' I think that I am a complex woman and this is a tragedy. ' I said.

I wasn't expecting to be so honest with Humpty but he needed to begin to

see outside of himself. I wanted to destroy his fantasy because the longer
I sat there, opposite him, the more degenerate in his luxury he appeared.

He was s tunned, turned on by my directness, but confused by my statement.

He had no idea what to say; it was c learly beyond him. So, he just carried
on chewing, his plump jowls gnawin g away at the rosemary-infused
garlic bread.

I didn't want to be sat opposite hi m anymore. It was getting later in the

evening and I had plans to see friends afterwards, so I kept on tantalising
him wilh commands to eat more. I told him to hurry up. I told him that I
wanted him to eat more, that l wanted to sec him gain; my patience with
him was running thin.

He was loving every moment of how I spoke to him. It was as if I had

cracked him . I knew exactly what he wanted to hear, and as he chewed, I
34
 JAMIE'S JT;\ l,li\N

blurted out mantras abou t greed. I focused all or my sight onto his small,
sandy-co loured s idebu rns meeting tht: tops or hi s ca rs, so immac ulate ly
inoffensive, so glaringly dull, so perfectly polite that at that moment, they
symbolised everything that is wrong with the world .

' I don't believe in fee ling shame for consensual sexual ity. The stereotypes
that enable shame are there to be actively destroyed. Ir you are going
to be spending ti me with me. yo u wi ll need to un derstand this. Is this
understood? I am giv ing you a space to be true to you rsel r.'

He nodded.

·Now. you are going to have to wipe up all or the sauce wit h the bread. I
want to see that entire plate clean. No exceptions.'

The waitress wa lked past us again and l caught her allcntion.

• 1 think I am as surprised as you to sec that he ·s eaten al I o f that food. It ·s

really quite shocking. isn ·t it'? I lave you ever seen anyone be such a pig
like him in this restaurant'»

She couldn ·t hide her amusement anymore and let out a loud laugh before
quickly covering her mouth with her hand. The other diners looked up from
their food. Humpty shrunk into him sel f as the surrounding environment
honed in on him.

'You just have one big mo uthful left I think it wo uld on ly be fair if you
finis hed it in fro nt of the waitress like a good boy. '

Humpty stayed still , staring at his lap.

' I was under the impression that you didn't like wasting beautiful women's
time.'

' I feel sick. I don't think I can do it. ' He started to pretend to tremble,
which was potentially one of the most irritating things I have ever had
to experience.

' I don't take no for an answer from you.'

.15
 [)(N!NG WITI I HUMPTY DUMPTY

I leaned over the table, took hi s fork from his hand, piled the remaining
pasta onto it and then lifted it l o his mouth. This smal l action happened
so quickly that he couldn't resist and he opened his lips as I tipped the
remaining food inside. The meeting was electric; it was the first time we had
any physical contact, even if it was through cutlery. I le chewed quickly,
swallowed fast and exhaled deeply. I started laughing and provoked the
waitress to join in with me. She seemed genuinely excited.

' It looks as if he is ready for his dessert now. I want you to know that my
company this evening is going to tip you very, very well. You have given
us a wonderful evening.·

We sm iled at each other and she walked away. The other diners started
whispering to one another, complerely confused. but titillated, by \Vatching
me fe ed him.

' Mistress, I' m starting to fee l nauseous. I'm not sure i r I can t!at desst!rt
too.·

'Shut up. You can. Anyway. since we met last week, I have been thinking
about your fet ish and I am going to he honest with you. I have a young
cousin suffering from anorexia. She is only fourteen years old. I get so
upset and confused about the fact that someone so naive is abusing herself.
and I often ask myself what kind of cruel world we live in where a disease
like this is so common that is loses the capability to even shock us.·

' I am sorry to hear about that. Mi stress. We must do everything we can to

make women's lives better.·

I fe lt a pumping in my chest drop into my stomach.

·It's strange, isn' t it, that we associate anorexia with narcissism because it is
predominantly women that suffer from this illness -- an illness which is the
side-effect of a privatised patriarchy in its most extreme objectification.'

·Jt is truly awful, Mistress.' I lumpty thought he was being sincere. It was
sad. I could tell he was incapabl e or being able to relate.

·And you know, with your fetish, you enjoy gluttony. l3ut anorexia is
consi dered self-absorbed and vain, as it is deemed female. Do you think
36
 JJ\Mll :·s ITALIAN

you r fe tish, which is essentially the absolute opposite of anon:xia, wi ll be

as judged in the same light?.

I le went silent. If it is Humpty's fetish to be made to appear lo feel

awkward, embarrassed and controlkd, rather than actually experience any
of these things, what are the boundaries? Do his desires include having his
intel lect and choices provoked by a woman?

'My fetish has controlled my life and I have had to be so careful of how I
go about it because I might be judged. It has been very difficult and often
di stressing for me to control this compulsion in me. That is not to say
that anorexia is easier than my experiences. but each person 's li ves are
relati \·c.'

Hern' do you expl ain the sensation or a man condescending to you? Humpty
was protecting himself against nw, his myopic outlook suffocating his
abil ity lo be rational and benevolent.

'Well, you' ve got to take care of number one, haven't you?' I said. Humpty
read thi s as me be ing understanding and nodded. His dessert arri ved and
he looked llustcred. I thanked the waitress and she left.

· I know that I'm stuffed, but this looks so good. '

Humpty's desires for eating grotesque amounts of food 1s a luxury; hi s

access to il in quantity and quality is exceptional, and then his dec ision to
go rge on it is only ever really meagre.

Olten I have asked myselr about the ethics of feeding Humpty. The food
that I was asking him to eat was only ever moderatel y larger than average
portions of food but it was in their de livery, in ordering the meals, that I
o\·eremphasised the ir size. After all. the brain is the biggest erogenous
7.0tle.

'.l ust think about how smooth and creamy the cheesecake will reel sl idi ng
down your throat. Think about how this will add lo you getting bigger.
Don't focus on hO\V ful l you may bc . You have to power through this. '

He began to carve away at the ca kc. co ntent in his ingestion. T his din ner
had been going on fo r longer than I'd expected. I had set aside an hour
 DINING WITI 11 ll JM PTY DUMPTY

and a ha lf fo r the amount that he \vas payi ng me and his company was
irritating me .

·1 was thinking of walking home a Her this, Mistress, but now I feel that this
food won't settle as well if I do. Do you think I should get the bus home?'

' Yes, then you need to lie down as soon as you are inside so the calories
can settle in. '

'1 was also wo ndering, Mistress, if" you have any fem ale friends who wou ld
be interested in joining us for dinner? I wou ld love to be in the company of
many strong women while I eat. '

·1 will think about it.. I said.

My vision wandered back to hi s V-neck sweater and I began to wonder

what he would look like while he masturbated later. I'd seen a part
or his apa rtment over a video ca ll and it looked as if he lived in an
omce hallway.

He woul d be so alone in his rastclcss. be ige living room with it s agoraphobic,

new ly-painted. off-white walls. wide-screen television, stack of DVDs,
coffee ta hie books about Banksy and heh ind-the-scenes ofJames Bond fi lms
against sensible wooden fu rn iture. Maybe the \\·alls had been painted two
days ago. maybe it had been two weeks. They would have most probably
been painted when he first moved in , bul the walls would ne ver indicate
any di ffcrc nce in their barren starkness. I imagined hi s rubbery, plump
skin with its manageable rol ls of fat, silting on his cream !KEA .sofo \vhilc
he repetitively stroked his frail mass of testosterone as his be ll y digested
his meal.

'For your next essay, I want you write about when you first real ised 1here
was a difference between how the sexes live.·

'Oh. wow, what a great topic. Mistress.' His admirat ion for me was
bet:om ing more aligned again as he enjoyed being put to work.

If people aren't capable of ret:eiv ing or digesting ne\.v inform ation and
opinions, is there any joy to living'?

.1X
 JAMI E'S ITALIAN

·You know \vho the real misogynists out there arc. Mistress? [S[S . The
way musl ims treat women is dreadful. Can I write about that?'

Without any hesitation, I lifted my hand and pretended to accidentally

knock his glass of water over. The glass didn 'l shatter but the ice-cold
water elegantly and perfect ly hit his plate, drench ing his cheesecake and
quickly spilling onto his lap.

'Oh. I am so clumsy 1 You are going to have to go to the bathroom to dry

off. ·

Humpty was mortified.

' Hut ll rst, you are going to have co finish the dessert. ' He tried to dry
himse lf off with hi s napkin.

' Mistress, the food is ruined!'

·Don ·1 do that.· I pointed at the napkin.

'Th ink about all of th ose women who don't have the opportunity to eat as
we ll as you. Don't be so spoiled.'

His face grimaced as his spoon scooped up his damp cheesecake.

·Eat it!' I ordered.

Humpty was heaving and breathing excessively. hi s little eyes bulging out
or his sweaty eye lids.

'Now, stand up. Let me see the mess you've made.'

Humpty crouched upwards. not fu lly straightening his body, then quickly
sat d0\\'11 again . His jeans \Vere drenched and it ga ve the impression that he
had wet himself. The perfect result.

'A re you trying to make everyone stare at you'? I need you to go to the
bathroom like a good boy and dry yourself off'

39
 DINING WITH HUMPTY Dl JMPTY

He started to pul l his arms into his navy blue quilled Barbour jacket so it
would cover hi s accident. I looked at him with severity and shook my head
and he put the coat back on his chair.

'I'm sorry, Mistress.'

He edged past the diners next to us, their gaze meeting his damp crotch and
took the long walk past the other diners and up the metal stairs above the
bar to the bathrooms while "The First Cut ls the Deepest,'' by Rod Stewart
played. I watched his short legs waddle through the packed restaurant,
avoiding the stares of the other diners until he was out or sight.

I then decided that that would be the best time for me to lea ve.

,,.

.,,,-

40
 Q

·1 his book is dedicated to all those who have truly

experienced the gra\'ity of eggs.
 'J felt like a tank. I felt like a large J/1(1111111111. A b(<? /Jea.o;t. Wh en I'd walk through the
corridors or across tl1e lawn, IIf just f elt like 1 could knock anyone out of my way, you
know. I was a .-alid, 1111.111. It 's terrible tu /Jc lhin and wispy. because, you know, you
w11/d get knocked over l1y 11 strong wi11d or something. Fat is beaut~ful.'

- said by Jim Mnrrison in 1969, during an interview in which

he discussed his weight gain before fam e.

A link to this interview was shared on Humpty's blog.

 ESSAY NUMBER 2

Greetings Goddess Rebecca,

Here is my answer to your last questi on. I must say that returni ng to the table
and seeing you gone \ovas the most amazi ng humi liation. I am not worthy or
you. I can not thank you enough for <H.:companying m e to dinner.

Sinccn:ly,
llumpty

MF Reali::ation of'/11eq11ality between the Sexes

I 1vu.rn I rhe hesr behaved (~l li!tle hoy.1', I would have temper 1antr11111s
111/tic!t now, re,flecting back seems ro he the byproduct of being the on(F
hoy growing up in an almost allfi..'11Wle !tousehold. Dad worked in London
during rhe ll'eek ll'Jiich leji me in t!te handv of my m orhe1; aunts and their
ji'iemf.,· Illus a nanny and a resen(/id older siste1: Even our adorl!d lahroclors
\\'el'(' \I 'O/llC!/1.

T/1esefon11atil•e y ears impla111ed i11 me the idea that ll'Olllen k11e11· hes/. this
has src~n.:d ll'ith m e ever since. There.fiwe I never saw discri111i11arion against
ivo111e11 os they ruled my world.

In spite <~/' the never ending overpoiveri11g by myfemale.fc11nily (which was

11111cl1 to do 1virh 111y age and pruhah/y 111y gender) I adored being caredj(Jr
i11 rite ho.wm <?/'my marriarchal world.

:\ 'mr I S<..'<..' rlwr this is 1rhat hos inspired my s ubmissive nature tm1·artf.1·
11·0111e11. 1rhich perhaps has blinded me ro rhe real srrugglC!s <~/'i11eq11olit,r in
rhe 11·icler 1rnrld Ir saddened m e to later leorn that maritol rape 11·as onf1·
made illegal in J CJ94. Ho wever during rhot time I was 011(1• close ro finishing
primm:\' school 11'11ich made me unable lo donate to this cause.

41
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

As I entered adolescence. at school I noticed that /J<~)'s recl'iwd harsher

punishments than 11.,. h/okes which wasfine by me. Once 011 a long ll'eekend
to Marrakech /felt ve1yforeig11. the blatant patriarchy that gripped the city
did not sit well with me at all.

fou may say that my experiences scream ·11hi1e male privilege'/ ca11 /1011esth·
say rhat I am trulr happy tlwr I never e.\1Jerienced gender ineq11aliz\' at a
young age. As I lww' groun older it has also not real~r t{f(ected me. at my
graduatejoh I did have three 1romen as subordinates. I am grate/id/iJI· the
changes that have hee11 happening to close the gap hetu·ee11 the sexes hut I
do know that much more need~ to change.
43
I was sitting on the Northern Line opposite a man in his thi rties with a littering
of stubble and a pair of those jeans that are purposefully designed to have
fake wear worn into them on the thighs and pointed suede loafers. His legs
were spread \.Vide apart, making the women on either s ide unconsciously
contract into even smaller personal spaces on the cramped and busy
tube carriage.

The way his jeans stretched around his thighs made me vaguely nauseous;
he had most like ly never considered how they looked upon the muscul arity
of his thighs or that the fit was too tight. There was something bulbous about
the tension between his skin and the denim, a visceral heat evaporating off
his solid body. I wondered how often men like this thought about how their
thighs looked. He was completely and utterly oblivious to his ingrained
behaviour and was playing a game on his iPhone, manically stabbing his
fingers onto the screen. I stared at him for the next four stops, then opened
my legs wide in retaliation; he never noticed .

I' d just spent the morning laying in bed, staring at either the ceiling or
my phone and pointlessly tormenting myself with memories of past
romantic rejections -- generally experiencing a futile level of self-criticism
conjoined with a lost sexual frustrati on that evaporated off me like a haze of
despondency. There are repetitive chains of critical thoughts and memories;
of vague -- and not-so-vague -- humiliations that are lodged in my mind.
Unable to escape and perfectly at home in jutting into w hatever current
thought I'm having, ready to jump out and remind myself or my imposed
unattractiveness. This has all been incited by an unofficial but intense year
long transatlantic relationship having just ended.

It was turbulent from the very beg inning, I think people confuse that for
passion. I had been in New York the month before but s ince being back
in London, I had unearthed the shocking discovery that he had the ability
to seduce some or the most fascinat ing women existing in contemporary,
bi-coastal subculture during our unofficial, but intense. time together.

-15
 DINING WIT H HUMPTY DUMPTY

He still Ji ved in his mother 's Brooklyn brownstone basement, which they
apparently inhabited prior to 'gentrifi cation,' and he behaved as if his
work commitments were disproportionately exhaustive to his adolescent
responsib il ities.

Apparently, William Burroughs had held him as a baby and his mother had
danced with the Merce Cunningham Company in the ' 80s. He exuded an
aura of wild transgression and this turned me on. On stage, he perfonned
naked. It was primal and, at the time, it felt new. r was fascinated that there
was this unknown subculture of people my age all over Ameri ca who still
dressed how punks did in 1979 and believed in 'sticking it to the man.' rt felt
like being in a fi lm, but with no irony.

We had met the year before whi le he was on tour in London. He played in
various New York punk bands and I' d gone to interview him not knowing
anything about him. r knew only o f his stage persona. I took him home
instead and we didn't sleep.

I thought at the time that he was radically minded. Once alone, an undeniable
connection presented itse lf. In bed, he would say things about me that no one
had realised I possessed, as if he could really see me. The sex was slow,
intense and would last for hours at a time. Its feral ity compounded a rare
sense of sophistication -- a thin line between tenderness and the softest
brutality, which was exasperating. Afterwards, it would leave the impression
that my skin had never been touched before.

Then came the emails. Love letters which were profound, honest and
lengthy -- agreeing that we had shared something special , until one day he
just stopped replying.

I saw him again a few months later when he was back in London. It began
again with less confidence as he tried to justify his inconsistency w ith
justifications of deep, dark emotions of personal misery.

It had just emerged to me that the moments of romance, which J had once
valued as precious and spontaneous, were potentially rehearsed motions
by him . Perhaps nothing we'd experienced together had actually had any
special relevance to him, as l had believed it may have done. I was now
alone in an experience which I had been confident was reciprocated but, in
fact, was unrequited.
46
 LEON

Twelve months since our fi rst meeting, after enduring inconsistent

communication and random outbursts of either passion or excuses. claiming
that his depression prompted his silence -- which I'd initially treated with
sensiti vity in focus or this connection -- disturbing stereotypes writhed out
of him .

He had called women fat. 1 discovered that he 'd boasted about sleeping
with a sex worker. only to call her a ·troll' and a ·goblin' to his friends
afterwards like she was just one big joke. He left his ex to move back to his
mother's basement bec.:ause he found her depression too compromis ing of
his creativt: freedom. He catcalkd women walking dO\Vn the street and used
the adject ives 'gay' and 'bitch' to describe people who had annoyed him.

It felt like my optimism for the opposite sex had been shattered by my new
understanding of this person that I once believed \Vas open-minded and
interesting. His behaviour was disconcerting. From the outside, he appeared
humble. He isn't particularly attractive but he had an arousing charm and
eccentricity about him, which made me feel special. Perhaps he just knew
how to make me feel specia l. If someone with his background and ostensibly
non-conformist lilesty lc treated women like this, \Vhat are my hopes of
meeting someone in the ruturc?

The previo us week, after discovering a handful of other women he was

multi-tasking and his depressing. moronic instances of sex ist entitlement
along with his general sci f centeredness, he confronted me on the phone,
trying to rekindle some kind of vague commitment. I refused his advances.
His progressive veneer had now shattered alongside my eggshell-like
self esteem.

He called me from a post ollice straight after sending me a gift of a rare

D' Angelo tape, our fa vourite musician that we'd listen to when we were
naked together. He also told me that he' d had a ' spiritual reawakening' after
spending the weekend upstate with a mystical friend. (Who afterwards, I
discovered, he visited with the so le intention of sleeping with them -- or, in
his words, to 'develop their spiritua l connection.') Now apparently he was
ready to show me he could be a better person.

After a year of never being totally honest with myself about how his
schizophrenic care for me had made me feel out of a fear of not being cool,
I finall y was. He hadn't ta ken this well so he decided to tell me that he had
47
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

apparently never wanted to sleep w ith me in the first place -- that it \Vas me
that had come onto him with such feroci ty he had no chance to deny my
advancements. I was, in his words, 'obsessed with controll ing men.'

Initially, we'd had this carnal thirst to explore each other physically and
intellectually but, after his capricious contact, it made me fearful of being
open around him. Now that I had revealed myself, it felt as if my concern
in him had provoked him to find me repulsive, despite his spasmodic and
entirely unpredictable absorpti on with me.

Whenever I activate some sort of recollection, not just wi th the punk but with
others too, it eats away at m y core like sharp, deep punctures that feel darkly
regressive. Stories overplay in my m ind that evoke visceral sensations of
self odium -- stories that commit me into my own painful purgatory. This
chain of thoughts legitimises my isolation. I enact a calculation of different
fai led romantic experiences that I let myself add up and multiply until I
convince myself of my own vulgarity.

The punk's behaviour had somehow unearthed another useless selection of

futil e memories which seemed to inc ite a regression of self esteem issues
unex pectedly in my b rain . Placing my worth alongside a potential fa ilure
as a woman, a women that may find it hard to connect with a man of whom
shares such equal passions.

There was the Australian rock star. Who had haphazardly mustered a career
for himself by creating a decidedly un-nuanced, macho 1980s identity,
shrouded in ironic bravado. He simultaneously, naively described to me
that his music was 'avant garde,' which was especially bad because he had
failed, in my mind, by not knowing who Leigh Bowery was when I told him
that he was my favourite Australian .

One early autumn day as we walked to get breakfast together after some
perfomiatively detached sex, he inquired over whether I had ever come close
to suicide before, as he had. The confidence behind this question 'vvas strange,
as if he were initiating a competition over which one of us possessed more
gargantuan philosophical thoughts. The conversation alluded at intimacy but
was c learly rehearsed.

Maybe he wanted to impress me, thinking that his pain made him wonderfu lly
unique. I got him a corporate job where we had to pretend to be a couple
48
 Ll::ON

for a clothing company and be photographed at a staged dinner party for

thi.:ir website. It was here that he told me he had wanted to become famous,
so much so that infamy occtmed with his face on billboards. He wasn't on
cocaine and that was two years ago and he still isn 't on any bi llboards.

The way he can-ics his body plays at some sort of queerness, interspersed
with a traditionally virile vigour -- a dusting of campiness with a sarcastic
mullet, surgical gloves. a scattering of randomly placed homemade tattoos
on his six-foot frame. one diamante dangling earring, white vests and a few
lashes of mascara -- wh ich I later discovered were placed there to distrac t
from his true core or unchallenged masculinity.

The first time I saw him outside a nightclub, my first thoughts were of
sleeping with him. I thought, al the time, that he might have been different
from the men surTmmdi ng him wearing Converse. When we \Valkcd home
together for the first time, he asked me what my favourite bands were. Mine
were a toss up between funkadeli c and The Fall and his was Prefab Sprout.

One ti me, whi le we wen: sleeping together, I \vas writing in a cate and, out
or the corner of my eye, I saw him come in, see me, ignore me and leave,
which ldt outrageous.

On his last night in London, he played a show and proudly made some
comment to the crowd about how he was wearing something that he'd left
on my bedroom floor.

Maybe a year after he kit London, he proclaimed on social media that

a ga lactically more successful African-American queer musician had
plagiarized from his only record cover -- a rather uneventful and pedestrian
photo of him with his hand softly in front of hi s face. Considering that
he has doused himself within a submergence or dated irony, this time he
had something to be serious about. He was unaware that he was accusing
Wolfgang Tillmans or ·copying' this record cover that the artist in question
had almost certainl y never seen.

His arrogant ignorance automatically became an outlandish joke to me; did

he believe that he was the originator of the aesthetics of male sensitivity'? On
soc ial media, he loves to parade around naked, wanting everyone to see his
penis. He thinks that he is being unconventional. that perhaps he is rejecting
a jockish fragility by dev iating only slightly from the acceptable mainstream
49
 DINING WITH HUMPTY Dl IMPTY

masculinity. When these images consequently get deleted, he calls attention

to himself again, lambasting the ridiculousness of on line censorship -- as if
he has never thought of how seeing an unprompted penis can trigger feelings
or danger to women, or just simply that it is irritating.

He still sleeps around obsessively, usually he seeks out models that he knows
won 't understand his music taste -- which is good for him. His ego can
never be satiated and his career remains festering for the approval of other
Australian and Californian men's comedic, guitar-centric congratulations.
And I' m not talking about a Frank Zappa kind of ludicrously harmonic,
satirical thing here -- that is a far cry from his work, although I had probably
projected it onto him. They do, however, have similar noses. Now I come to
think of it, I think he lives with his mother, too, when he's not on tour.

A woman was sitting next to me on the tube, the type of woman who is
invisible to mainstream society because or her age and class. A native
Londoner in her 60s with gold jewellery and maroon-dyed hair.

I peered at her phone as she was sending a text message that read, 'I just saw
Donna begging. She was dirty and embarrassed.'

Shortly after the Australian came the noise musician who had a nervous
breakdown over his missing cat. I was sympathetic with this to begin with,
even though I found his lengthy and focused depression on this topic to be
totally bizarre. I suppose I found his eccentricity compelling; maybe his
perspective meant that he would see the world differently.

The sad, but not dc\·astating, disappearance ofhis pet was symbolic ofhis grief
over the fact that he was no longer twenty-years-old and what he described
as his ·outsider music' lifestyle was dwindling now that he'd reached thirty.
His straight, white friends were now getting 'real jobs,' easing off on the
languishing anti-careerist paradise of being a freelance art handlers, which
had funded their ability to express their stoic torment through harsh noise
played out to the same thirty people at the same five venues.

I do feel his pain -- no one wants their anti-Capitalist dreams to be

destroyed. But in life, you have to be dynamic. We can 'l blame anyone
else for the invisible, ruthless effects of plutocratic power that radiate all
around us. We have to fight against them and create our own balance with
longevity. Some of us don 't have a choice. He \\'anted a utopia where he
50
 LEON

could create endless experimental noise with his frien ds but everyone 's
dreams end.

He said that he really liked that I was independent and we spoke about our
sex as if it had a future. We wanted to sleep together whi le 'Human Nature'
by Madonna played but it never happened. He was both tender and weird,
and it was a beautiful mix. There was nothing contrived about him. It was
refreshing. One even ing, I lay on hi s bed and we spoke whi le he sat on a
chair facing me. He lifted my skirt and kissed the middle of my thigh gen tly,
then covered my leg with the fabric and we carried on talking as if nothing
had happened.

J would complain about the bad Indi an food that l 'd eaten recently. He has
Persian fami ly and I have Pakistani fam ily, so he took me to a Hindu temple
with a canteen in its basement to eat Dosas. They were del icious. Then we
drove to the beach listening to Grace Jones' album , 'Wann Leatheretlc,'
from beginning to end.

Every morning, he would place a framed photo of him and the cat on his
pi llow after making his bed. The first time we slept together. I remember him
self-consciously moving the fra me dow·n the side of the bed so that 1 could
rest my head on the pillow that was usually inhabited by this memoriam.

We met almost a year after the disappearance, but things ended as I was
getting bored with his general inabi lity to be enthusiastic about anything and
he proclaimed that he was 'existing in his own personal hell. · and that ·we
should never have met'. Apparently my rather unenergeti c, but optimistic,
interest towards him provoked him to tell me that I was ' hung up on him .'

He was kind-hearted and unpretentious but he wouldn't allow himself or

anyone else to enjoy these qualities in him. I looked at him in the eyes and
told him that we were all actually existing in our ·own persona l hells' before
walki ng away but it seemed to go over hi s head.

I felt humiliated again -- a stinging embarrassment fo r being confronted

with feelings which I had perceived as both mutual and tame but ultimately
pleasurable that he suddenly pulled away from. He, too, considered his
misery as something alien to my female consciousness. I was not good
enough LO understand hi m. But that is fine now: the world is a bi g place if
you want it to be.
51
 DINING WITI I 1IUMPTY Dl!Ml'TY

I walked out of Charing Cross station and, in a stereotypically British

fashion, London was grey and its temperature was neither cold nor freezing.
It was nearing the end of January. potentially the worst month or the year,
and the skies were dense with a repulsive futility which was embellished by
a pathetic rain earlier that morning. The sun had never arrived and we 'd been
taught to accept it.

Walking down the Strand. the wet pavements were rammed wi th tourists.
weighed down with heavy backpacks and utilitarian anoraks. Expectedly,
construction workers in groups di reeled consciously lurid stares at me
as I passed them and bewildered home less people looked as ir they were
dissolving into egregiousness of the streets' cement.

I was on my way to meet Humpty and he wasn't entirely aware or why I

was asking him to meet in this particular area of the city. We had arranged to
have lunch and I'd chosen LEON. a healthy last food chain predominantly
located in areas of London where there is a high density or ornces. I was
wearing my thick black PVC trench coat tightly belted around my waist
with thigh high boots. and a long ' 90s Jean Paul Gaultia dress printed with
greek sculptures of women ·s torsos in blues and greens. My hair was down
and my lips were painted a deep red. I fo ll as if the mundanity of having to
interact with Humpty and the chain or thoughts whirling around my head
could be counterbalanced with me making rnysel r look good -- like I could
consequently feel less of the impact from these erratic memories of rejection
that were floating into my consciousness.

I was com ing to tern1s with admitting to mysel r that I was upset and hated
that this unofficial relationship with the punk \Vas having such a profound
effect on my confidence. It had taken a while for me to actu all y he honest
with myself over how distressed I really was because I was embarrassed that
another relationship that was based on almost no commitment could conj ure
up these feelings and memories.

As I got closer to me and Humpty's meeting place, dread was beginning

to stir within my gut. I didn't want to be mean to Hum ply or to even really
see him. What I was desperatdy crav ing was the possibility or eroticism
with someone uncomplicatedly kind. I wanted lo produce the type of
stimulating conversation th at could make me use parts or my brain that I
forgot existed.

:i'.!
 LEON

My sexual frusrration was beginning to feel visceral and there was no

direction to steer it in. My image as a strong woman (whatever that means)
feels like an immediate turn off because I have convinced myself that men
want manageable women that they can easily impress. The way this recent
relationship with the Punk had ended was so mystified with a comparison to
the other women he'd been with, an anxiety arose of whether I'd behaved
in a way where he fe lt I may have succumbed to him. We both always knew
that it wouldn't so lidify into seriousness but at least we could both be kind.

I didn't think I was lonely but perhaps this experience with the punk had
escalated a fee ling of isolation because, I then realised, I was not and never
had been an equal to him in his eyes. He had sold himself to me as the type
of man that I wanted to exist in the world, but then that illusion burst. And
after a while, I was gui lty of projecting a type of hopeful, lustful sympathy
on to him as wel l.

I should have known. When he came into my bedroom for the first time, his
first comment was about the quantity on my bookshelf. He later told me he
had only ever read one book and attended one protest, which he had walked
into by accident. My literacy didn 't intimidate him, instead, he used it to
reflect back onto himself; he liked to tell his friends about the smart British
girl he was sleeping with. Once he proudly told me that his fr iend said I was
the hottest girl he'd ever been with but that was an achievement for him and
less of a compliment for me.

In retrospect, I remember how our conversations would sometimes veer into

ho'<v he \·vasn't a sell-out. I don'tthink he necessarily \Vantcd to make me feel like
I was one but he definitely wanted
to assert that he was perhaps more
real and hardcore, maybe even
authentic. He used to play shows
in Tompkins Square Park, take
heroin and get bad tattoos of things
like zombie heads and bulldogs
as a teenager. He was making an
instrument that would record the
sounds ofthe vagina as it contracted
in orgasm, and he wanted to test
it on me. I wonder how many
women he told about this?
53
 DINING WITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

When we first met, he told me about a performance he did where his friend's
girlfriend took his anal virginity with a dildo on stage, projecti ng the pained
sounds he made through a microphone. When I probed him more about the
concept, he revealed that he' d invited his ex around to practice fucking him
first before the perfonnance. He told me his work was all about vulnerability.

I wouldn't understand the holy, gritty edges of his rose-tinted city

upbring ing. He worked out, would always have dirt under his fingernai ls
and would complain of long tenn medical issues from being in the pit. In
bed one very hot summer evening, instead of caressing one another after sex,
he got up and staited playing me recordings of music he ' d made when he
was eighteen. He had no parametre of understanding if this was socially or
intimately acceptable. I think the word for this is masturbatory.

The last time I woke up with the Punk was followed by an instinctual
abjection to get away from him . I had emailed him previously opening up to
him about some private family news which I thought I could confide in him
with, he never repl ied and still hadn't brought it up. I then pieced together
a conversation from the previous night where he spoke about these other
brilliant women that I knew of that he had been in similar vague but fiery
relationships w ith. The way he s poke about them was so ludicrously juvenile
but so brimming with an extroversion of confidence that he sudden ly looked
like a new person. He had clearly spoken about me in the same way and it
made my stomach chum.

l remember staring at his bedroom wa ll, at the graffiti he'd drawn on there
juxtaposed with his folded T-shirts and underwear that could have only have
been washed by his mother. Amidst the cables and drum symbols strewn
across the floor I knew r had to get out of there. r had only just arrived
in New York and this brief encounter was upsetting at first but I soon felt
strangely liberated by my newfound perception of him.

On my last night I invited him round to where l was staying and fucked
him with a strap on. A month passed with little or no consideration to his
well-being but my plastic extension had falsely assumed a new intimacy
to which he, in an attempt to contact me, was camouflaged with a need to
reclaim some kind of control of my view of him. He can offer me enough
for me to think well of him, but noth ing else. The frontman is besotted with
being adored.

54
 LEON

If you don't pay rent and your mother still washes your underwear for you, l
suppose you can afford to not sel l out. Why is it that we should have always
'known· when someone behaves in a way that hurts us?

I adore my male friends and remain close to most of my exes, so the

basic generalisation from the punk that l love controlling men because I
experiment as a domme was depressing. And as much as I hate to admit
it to myself -- I have kt it certify a niggling insecurity of mine that as a
woman with strong values and a relatively successful work ethic, especially
in com parison to many men my age, I was threatening and, therefore,
automatically unappea ling. The stereotype of a determined woman being so
intim idating to men feels overpoweringly archaic and I have always wanted
to live as if those barriers don 't exist, but they do.

l felt lonely and unattracti ve and l knew that Humpty 's admiration was
grossly unreal. The idea that l loved controlling men unfo lded an emotion in
me that was deadening. It is hard enough to take care of oneself, where docs
one lind the time to control a man?

Being a domme is sexual for me but only with the right person. It has to
be with someone where we can invest in each other and teach each other
something about ourselves which is new, engaging and fun -- that is sexy.
However, with Humpty, it creates a flexible financial exchange wherein l can
support myscl rand have the added benefit of being able to directly explore
a very specific gender dynamic . Ultimately, he makes me fee l like a mother
and does any woman want to learn that prematurely?

Therefore, having to spend the day with Humpty and indulging him in his
opulent fantasies was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew that Humpty was
now going to want me to punish him.

This time. I wasn't concerned about making him wait for me. I walked into
LEON on time and sat at one of the high stools in the cafe 's nauseatingly
immaculately designed interior space, which allowed for fast movement for
efficient queueing to the highly staffed counter.

I stared at the menu at the for end of the care wanting to make a quick choice.
The restaurant marketed some mythical, cosmopolitan Middle Eastern-
French polymath, which could all be neatly packed into cardboard boxes.
Halloum i wraps and lamb kofk sat alongside cleansing j uices and vegan
55
 DINING WITll Ill IMPTY DliMl'TY

quinoa salads. I began to wonder who was LEON? Was he a real man or just
a creat ion by boardroom suits?

The space was decorated with anonymous I 970s fomil y holiday photos,
alluding to a notion of familial love in a space managc<l by European
strangers in their twenties working presumably on zero-hour contracts.

I had made plans with Humpty to have lunch. however thi s wasn't all I had
planned. I felt a little apprehensive over how this would pl ay out but I knew
that, ultimately, what was to come \V0tild be good for him.

Humpty pushed open the door and immediately saw me. I stepped down
without greeting him and got into the queue to be served.

' I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Mistress. I love this place. I otien come
here for lunch when I'm at work. It is so reasonable and delicious.·

' How tedious,· I muttered under my breath.

Now that we \\"ere standing next to one another. I was sign ificantly taller
than him -- just over six foot in heel s. My eyes tran:llcd down to him and I
realised that this was the first time we had not only just seen each other in
daylight but also stood next to one another.

There was an increased flimsiness to his physicality. He seemed smaller, but

petrifyingly more real, even normal. We were next in line and a woman with
dark hair and a Polish accent served us.

' Hello, I am going to have the super cleanse juice please and he will have ...
hmm , let me see. How about the Moroccan Meatball Hot 13ox. with fries
and a Coca-Cola? Could we please pay more for an extra large portion. He
is being a fat pig today. '

She clearly didn't understand me or care and put the order into the till.

'Oh wait, can he please have a slice of the Victoria Spongl! cake as well?'
She looked up at me, then at Humpty, and somehow shi !led her attitude or
ambivalence into an awkwardly approving gaze as I patronized him.
 LEON

I turned to Humpty and inspected the rest of the people in the room. From
the exterior, Humpty is the most ord inary man in the world. A blandness that
is dangerous. I then realised how much I wanted his dystopian desires and
views to become public knowledge. I want him to be challenged. After al l,
how often are men genuinely challenged?

' How are you today, Mistress?' He uttered.

' l 'm fine, and yourself?' I replied without looking at hin1.

' Yes, I am quite chipper today. Had brunch with old Uni friends in Kings
Cross, then we took a 1.valk down the canal to Camden. Don't worry, though,
I ate a Jot this morning. I \\ as a little wo1Tied about how my friends would
1

perceive my big plate of French toast, but, surprisi ngly, it seemed to go

unnoticed by my company!'

I imagined Humpty walking through Camden market, past the old punks
selling their homemade screen printed Crass and Subhumans T-shirts whi le
he and his friends spoke about their personal opinions regarding the fa ilures
of Obama 's administration, while simultaneously trying to convince one
another that they stil l approved of him. I could sense Humpty 's nervous
eyes pierce into me as we waited in the queue, deconstructing every nuance
of my outfit and makeup as we stood in compulsory si lcnce.

"Mistress, I have to have a serious word with you.' Humpty said.

His delivery was unlike anything else he had said; there was an authori tarian
nature to his tone, as if he was the empl oyer and I was the employee wh ich,
perhaps, was true.

A song by Alt-J then came on and I began wondering whether the band had
been created by The Conservative Party to hypnotise people into apathy.

' I discovered your work. I found out why you 've been making me write
these essays.'

I snapped out of my concentration, induced by the vacuity of subscance in

Alt-J's music. He began to stammer. His food was presented on a tray and I
calmly walked over to an empty table, letting him fo llow me.

57
 DINI NG WITI I 1llJM l'TY DU MPTY

'I give you absolutely no

pennission to publish any of my
writing,' he said.

I stared at him unemotionally,

forcing eye contact. He breathed
deeply out of his nose as he
propped himself onto the stool.

'Why do you think anything you've wrillcn is interest ing enough for anyone
to read?' I said. I hadn't planned on publishing anything that hc·d done but
l did find the concept of him writing politically probing essays for my own
personal use hi larious.

·1 read the interview with you about Wormy. and the way the journalist wrote
about fetish was just disgraceful. .lust so exploitative,· he spluttered.

Wonny was a submissive from Birmingham who I speak to onl ine and l
absolutely adore him . He doesn't have a lot or money so he would buy me
secondhand books in return for my demands that he complete embarrassing
tasks via video call.

That's how the name 'Bookwom1· arose. I made him do drawings of himself
as a worm, recounting his most humiliating memories and fantas ies alongside
illustrations of me. which I then published into a small book.

1t was an honest and respectful relationshi p with a sub -- so incredibly

harmless and playful -- and hi s identity was always anonymous. Wonny 's
fet ish doesn't exploit anyone and in that it is hcauti l'ul. The drav..- ings were
uniquely nai ve and gorgeous beca use he just wants lo be a little wom1 who
lives in my garden. The particular a11icle he was talking about was in a youth
culture publication and \Vas totally benign, though it wasn 'l necessarily
clued up on the intricacies of BDSM.

;l don 't understand how any oft.his concerns you. ' I pointed a l his food and
he picked up his fork, shovelling a meatball into his mouth .

'Are you sure that this is whal you arc really upset about?'

58
 I.LON

'Well, l searched for the journalist on line and found her Twitter, and ... and
she had been sharing links to a11icles which were very... ' he lilied up his
hands and made quotation marks 'anti-men'.

I put all of my energy into maintaining the most deadpan eye contact with
him that I cou ld possibly muster. He was becoming more perturbed, more
authentic. His ideas were physica lly mutating into a reality right in front of
my eyes. The facade of our domme/sub dynamic was shattering.

I suppose I should have cared that Humpty had discovered my real name
and the investigatory work I produce about male sexuality. But to be honest,
I didn·r. It made me realise that this was the end or our relationship. The
power dynamic was destroyed; he now knew more about me than I did of
him.

·What could you possibly mean by that?'

A group of Italian teenagers lined past us. gawping at how pretentious the
food was.

·Well. I researched the journalist and was so appalled at how sensational the
article was. I hate all of these millennial outpouri ngs or sci f righ teousness .
Everyone has an opinion now. and political correctness has gone so
overboard. What is really going on with all of these socia l j usti ce warriors'!
It's so ... unattractive.'

He was speaking as his real sdf. He briefly stopped to catch his breath and
unsuccessfully searched my face for some kind or reaction before carryi ng
on.

'I know you'll probably disagree with me, Mistress, but this just proves
my understanding that this is rhe hardest time it has ever been to be a \Vhite
man.'

He looked pleased with himself, as if he was getting off on provoking me,

but I remained neutral from the exterior.

Just staring at his sideburns again. Who decides on creating the international
length for a sidebum and how is it that your instinct is always right? Humpty
was worse than I had imagined. Not only was he the most banal rendition of
59
 DININ(i WITI 11 ll JMPTY DUMPTY

traditional British manhood that I had ever encountered, he also exemplified

one of the meekest, most pathetic vers ions of the stereotype that I'd ever
experienced. The only way I was goi ng to be able to get through the
conversation was by remaining as detached from my own views as possible,
to create no argument and display no emotion. I pointed at his Coke and then
said, 'Arc you saying that you have been feeling victimised'?'

He took a sip of it with a straw, instantly making him look childlike.

·I have certainly felt prejudice. but never personally victimised. 1· d be happy

to send you articles thi s evening about these issues. I ha\'e many saved ...
Some have also been written by women too·.

'What type of prejudice?'

' 8 eing male, white. speaking how I speak and my background. I just have
to dea l with it'.

There was a long, awkward si lence between us. I could fee l my heart beat
faster and my eyes watered. which occasionally happens when I'm deeply
embarrassed for someone else.

'But, Mistress, I am very upset uboul Wormy.'

'Oh, shut up. You are just. jealous 1ha1 I like Wormy more than you.'

' Perhaps that is right, Mistress, however: I do not want you 10 put me in a
position where you exploit mc .'

I shook my head. The idea that Humpty thought I cou ld exploit him was
laughable.

' Have you actually ever felt that you've experienced real. tangible prejudice?'
I inquired.

'How can you ever know for sun:'.' But being asked to fi ll in applications
with details of disability, gender. religion. race. sexuality opens up scope
for al l manners of prejudice. It 's common sense when you think about those
th ings, Mistress. ·

(>()
 I.EON

I repeated the question. 'Have you ever had a direct experience where you
have telt discriminated against ror being privileged?'

· Identity and envy is an ugly syndrome, and it detracts from real issues.'
He was skirting around my questi ons.

·But have you ever had a real, direct experience where you have felt directly
discriminated against for your pri vilege'?' I repeated.

·well, you know, Mistress. you can never really know what happens behind
closed doors but l have certainly experienced circumstances. In short, there
have been decisions and seb:tions made by adjudicators that seem very
clear on all this. I have many statistics about how this inequal ity is growing
from a variety of news sources that I would be happy to send you later. '

·Are you implying that you wcren 't chosen for a job beca use you are a
white man? '

Humpty pushed his meatbal ls around with his fork.

'There was one incident where mysel r and my team where applying for
funding. We were essent ial ly verbally given it, and then a week later, it was
given to a team made up or et hnic minorit ies. From now on, I will never
apply for fundi ng in the UK.'

'Haven't you ever considered that their project was better? After all,
originality reigns. '

My voice started to rise as I couldn't believe how quick ly Humpty's blind

ignorance was escalating.

'l isten, I'm all fo r di versity, but I'm on the wrong end of the spectrum. I'm
more suited to meritocracy, \vh ich is why I want to move to the US.'

I laughed a long, slow laugh so everyone would hear. · I think you mean
mediocrity.·

·in the US. you aren't judged <>n physicality as much,' He made these
statements \\·ith such ob\'ious comfort that I then realised he meant
everything that he was saying. I started th inking about the article I'd read the
<ii
 l)[N!NG WITll 1llJMPTY DUMPTY

day before about the Black Lives Matter movement in the US, and Sandra
Bland's barbaric murder at the hands ofTexan police.

'You haven't eaten enough, hurry up. I have somewhere to take you after this.'
'I am fee ling larger at the moment, Mistress. It is incredible being able to
stroke my stomach after eating.·

What does a misogynist look like? Or a racist? Or any ki nd or bigot'? We

have stereotypical images implanted into our minds or poor, uneducated
people on one end, and supremely rich, white people -- perhaps from
the deep south of America or even the Queen's husband! -- on the
other. Of men in vans who wol f-whistlc at you on the street or or uptight
women, immersing themselves into The Dai ly Mai l... But is it ever
that simple?

But what do bigots look like when they don ·1 fulfil the stereotyped social
styles that most often take the blame? What is in the middle or those cliches'?
HO\v do you go about trying to identify them? I think it might be impossible.
Humpty may have read and enjoyed that Patti Smith hook everyone loves and
may have owned a couple of pairs of Converses in his lifetime. so his image
does not betray his subtle fascism because subcultural ideas have now been
cornmodified to laughable rncancies.

But how do we react to bigotry when it is perfonncd right in front of our faces
and in ways which flirt with the 'acceptable"? Ol1en a rape or racist joke are
shared amongst bigoted acquaintances, when such thinking is maniksted into
subtle statements that scream regressive thoughts, how can we cha Ilcnge this
without being stereotyped as the easily otlended and uptight? The experience
of being a woman is so ingrained into such a mu ltitude or experiences and.
because of these behaviours that correlate with how women arc oppressed,
often we don ·1 even realise that we have to react to them because they arc
perceived as harmless. That light switch moment when we arc allowed to
acknowledge the multitude of condensations or sinister public stares that
happen every single day. We have mutated into this abnormality. When is the
right time to get angry about these nuances that erode away at us?

Like John Lydon said with PiL; Anger is an Energy. but from my experience.
it is on ly bearable in small doses. Is it possible to he transgressive at al l times?
This has been one of my main concerns and why I'vc been fascinated in the
desperation others have to keep punk alive.
62
 LEON

It isn't emotionally possible to be endlessly rebellious without burning out.

You have lo fight your battles. But announcing yourself as more political ly
righteous than another person is oflen futile if you are all figh ting for the
same thing.

As a teenager, I discovered the possibilities or romance through the culture

created by celebrated men. I turned the concepts of their talent into the
objects of my desire. The most historically rebellious men have always been
the most compelling to me but now, as I grow older and I've found mysel r in
amorous relationships with a sma ll handfu l of these respected men in their
circles of contemporary youth subculture, their rebellious statements reel
more like photocopies of once radical behaviours -- sacred, sale and adored
for their aesthetics of nostalgia rather than their ingenuity and relevance.

Initiall y, their revolt was arousing because it seemed like they just didn't
want to conform to the limitations of traditional mascu linity. But ever so
slow ly, subtly and to varying degrees, it oozed out that the faca de or their
progressiveness would dematerialize.

Like the rampantly sexist punks of the ·?Os, punks today still haven't fully
considered or conceptual ised 1hc presem and future dynamics of gender
within the punk scene. Because after al l, it is easy to avoid change if
you're at the top of its socia l hierarchy and you're a straight white man in
a band. They think that they are doing enough to subvcrl the mainstream
through just being themse lves rather than working towards something with
more equilibrium. They may reject the wearer of the hyper-manufactured
Ramones T-shi11 and that is good enough, that is enough work. Why would
they rock the boat if they're at the top?

And, if a person immerses themselves within a culture that adores the past,
how does this correlate with contemporary politics'? It becomes a useless
stagnation that only drips regression while mainly stay ing in the same
place, rotting very slowly. Nostalgic transgress ion is sexually pleasurable
to many in its outstandingly comfort because the rules are already
63
 DINING WITI 11llJMl'TY DUM PTY

there. And there is nothing safer than rules but rules are there lo be broken,
to be remade.

My attraction to men is so rare, so determined in its rejection of superficiality. I

am intrinsically aroused by original thinking and unconventionality. However,
now I realise that I have been thoroughly shallow, because I thought that
being into punk or noise music was inherently subversive, and it's not -- it's
a 40-year-old ideology that docs not automatically transct:nd to the present.

But then there was the experience or hearing and \vatching men perfonn with
that guttural passion. I am so aware or never seeing men be emotional. so
hearing it in records giYes me hope that men can get upset. that somehow
we're on the same playing field. but you still never really see this emotionality
outside the realms of perfonmmcc. When would I be able to experience a man
get as impassioned as Prince when he sings ..The Beautiful Ones'..? Was this
perfonnance of earnest passion a lie that we ·ve all been fed? Actually, this
is the same thing that Humpty is paying me for. but within the absolute other
side of the spectrnm. Rather than being emotional, I am being paid to perfonn
as the cold bitch -- but I am full of feelings and having to 'play· a female
character is what we all do every day.

Small talk quite literally dries me up. meaning that my sex lite is in a constant
state of neglect. I want only the rawest of experiences and I am animalistically
hungry for them. Not only do I approach my relat ionships with this mentality,
I am discerning in all facets or culture that I consume.

1 want integrity with uneompromised clarity. I want fearl essness. Palatable

things revolt me. Perhaps seeing the punk on stage with his short, naked,
chiseled body, jerking and spasmi ng, tricked me into thinking I was in the
progressive safety net that I am so desperate for.

But that was a performance, and the aesthetics of subversion can occasionally
fool even the most astute of us. The punk projected an image of wildness, an
almost manic rejection of the status quo, and I was enraptured. But his visual
language didn't donate a deeper conceptual understanding.

Any girl can watch a man scream on podium and belicvt: in his sincerity. Isn't
that what we always yearn to do'? We think that the rock stars will show us
a new tmth. Isn' t that why everyone stil l wears Ramonc's T-shirts? Even if
they've never heard of them?
 u :oN
It fee ls as is all exertion of confident male emotion is almost always
unchallenged in i1s delivery and message; it is always ccn a in and solid
and impressive. Applauded for its strength, but never its w eakness. and
vulnerabi li1y is universally underrated in its genderless beauty.

In my ex perience, emotionality on ly ever appears after long periods of

intimacy with boyfriends, which is then disrupted by a pallcrn or
shame for
indu lging what they considered to be a weakness.

Since m y adolescence, I'd been told that anger is organically and

excl usively male and that I would simply never be able lo understand a
man's interior la ndscape or
s uffer ing -- as if an internal and si lcntly brewing
rage was a particularly male experience and, furthermore, that grappling
with mental health was the mos t embarrassing thing that could happen to
their gender.

This mentality has taken a bit of a U-turn in modern society, but, sti ll, my
boyfriends would wind up vaguely resentful that they ' d opened up to me
-- as if ii wen: m y fault that they'd been pregnable.

The one 1hing 1hat connected all of these men that l"vc been wi1h. other
than their luxurious relat ionships \\"ith subversion and 1hei r apparently
unsurpassed experiences of depression, was their noses. T hey al I had
exceptionally beautiful, long noses.

I looked up at Humpty as he chewed away and his nose looked as if it had

stopped growing in the womb, stunted in its lack of character.

There have been other men over Lhe last few years -- like men with art
degrees w ho lived in warehouses and used to play guitar but sw itched to
techno music. I have never been that engaged by them.

Mos t creative men arc no,~· art direc tors rather than artists. and no one seems
to want lo challenge this depressing dichotomy. Actually, maybe they are
more like creative directors. What even is the diffcrcm:c between those
1wo bus inesses'!

T he male <tr1ists that I know are mainly loud, while and from wealthy
fam ilies. I noticed a pattern of them getting Black Flag 1a11oos as students
though they arc now making work about gentrification or excess or both,
65
 DININ(i \.VITll ll lfM l'TY DlJMPTY

iron ically unaware that they arc lhe biggest creators of it. At least the noise
musicians had deep and varied tastes in music, despite their entitlement
being blindly comfortable.

***
Feminism is being commodiliccl to th e point of satire and seems to divide
women more than it unitt::s us. Humpty now claimed to admire fe male
strength, albeit superfic ially, but it also isolated him in a way that he
was never going to be ready to accept. Gender is now a di scussion at the
epicentre of a fantastic liberation movement, delving into wonderful new
depths of acceptance but men sli 11 rule.

The most fun I ever have is danc ing to disco in gay bars but even then I feel
gu ilty of not being totally in the presen t. When I started art school , London 's
gay clubs felt comple tely liberating. Gone were intoxicated aggress ions of
men in nightlife spaces; instead, me and my friends could dance without
scrutiny. The paradox or these countless happy even ings was that I'd be
surrounded by men who didn 't want to be intimate with me or my less-
confom1ing friends. We were in a space where sex was accessible for them
but not fo r us and more than oncn. my friends and I have experienced
various exam ples or being put on some strange ·glamorous and strong'
inan im ate pedestal of li ght-hearted obj ectification.

The women and queer people ol'd isco who displayed the most unapo logetic
exh ilarated emotion -- like Fern Kinney, Sylvester, Ednah Holt. Joce lyn
Brown. Tina Turner. The Pointer S isters. Taana Gardner. The Jones Girls,
Sylvia Stripl in. Loleatta Holloway, Sister Sledge. Phyllis Hyman. Thelma
 I. EON

Houston, Tee na Marie and Chery l Lynn -- now seem forgotten compared to
their male musical co unterparts but they have given me a precious solace
unl ike anything else I've ever experienced. Their music inspires me; it
makes me feel glad to be alive and it assures me that experiencing and
understanding emoti ons, however severe they might be. is a good thing.

A frustration weighed down on me alongside an edging arousal as

daydreamed about my skin being touched with thoughtful tenderness by
an authentic man . I wanted to understand what this meant and how I could
be transgress ive in a time or constant distractions and an adoration for
banal surfaces.

Is being a dominatrix radical'? It docsn 't feel like that. In fact, as a domme.
1·ve had to spend more time with people who orbit a worl d of colonial
con formity than my own socia l circle of artists. Society seems to paint
kinky sex work as the pinnacle of the underworld -- the ultimate abstraction
of prohibition -- but my li fe is very normal.

It quickly became appan;nt that wht:n I am with a submissive, I wou ld

always be per fo rming. The tort ure is always invented, an d how wild is
fiction? The actual taboo or being a sex wo rker is seeing how men really
want to behave.

Radical is another word whose definition has been mutated by shallow

materialism or, alternati vely, an association to militant terrorist groups.
Still, I knew that cha llenging people by making them experience social
di scomfort is otien one or the most empathetically progressive things you
can do. H istorica Ily, I understand that the most impressive co unter cultures
have emerged during economi t: dow nfa ll. but my young adult life has
already experienced two, and all I can dist:ern is a mass lethargy emanating
from people narcissistica lly quarantining themselves Onl ine.

***
I lifted my gaze from Humpty's unpierced ear lobe to three mousy-haired
men in their late twenties and early thirties walking into LEON wearing
Navy-style pea coats, converses and splintery beards. Whenever I see a man
with a beard. I always \vonder: what are they hiding underneath there? What
do their faces really look Iike'!

67
 DIN ING \VI T I 11ll.iM l'T Y Dl!\-IPTY

These men weren't trying to stand out in any way, but there were traces
of a cosy history on 1heir faces, alluding to a time when men were hunter-
gatherers, which probably soothed their existential anxieties of working at
their uncreative desk jobs in creati ve agencies. In comparison to Humpty's
aesthetic blandness, these men appeared more left-field, but really they were
the same: both utterly prescribed.

1 then real ised that al that very moment I needed to do something in the
present. away from the jurisdiction of the internet -- something fully in the
publ ic -- not filten:d through an audience that 's concerned with their own
critical vanity or their obsessive need to 'fit in,' like the crowd you might
find at an exhibition opening, gig or a fashion show. There's no use preaching
to the converted. I needed to do somethi ng that embraced diverse social
interact ion, that is rad ical. I have never been that enamoured with fantasy,
instead choosing to fixa te on soc ial realities. Why imagine something when
you can make it happen'? U ltimatcly, it is only the rich that can enjoy the
escapism that comes from buying fantasy.

Women, and more so people of colour, are constantly surveil led in our
society -- ceaselessly expected to be conscious of the way they behave
and how they are perceived al all times, simply for the bodies they were
bom into. This is not to be challenged; in fact, this oppression is almost
impossible to challenge because it is so insidious in our dai ly realities. It is
now· clearer than ever that Humpty never thinks of being spectated so I now
wanted to put his body trial. And I know that I can attempt to open hi s eyes
to this through the facade of his love for me humil iating him.

***
The conversation 1 wns having with Humpty at LEON had been the most
compelling of ours so rar. It was 1hc most engaged that he' d ever made
me. As he chewed away, I began to become more accustomed with our
 I .EON

surroundings. I low is it that these chain restaurants can evoke a feeling

of absolute fami liarity while simul taneously being so alien to any kind
of human comfort? The floors, wh ich I'd paid no allcntion too, were now
fi lthy - -the chairs chipped from the hundreds or commuters trai ling in day
after day after never actual ly spending any considerable time in there. The
staff's behaviour naturally seemed disconnected from any concern for the
company 's well being. The graphic design looked more annoying than ever
in its friendly blues, reds and oranges against a vintage '40s French font and
the playlist, which was probably created by the same company as Ed's Diner
and Jamie's Italian, was only playi ng songs that belonged in a snug abyss of
non-confrontational rem iniscence. Or it was just contemporary white people
singing \\'ith acoustic guitars.

As these thoughts ran through my head, one of those vicious coincidences

happened that you often can't quite believe is real. · Everyday People' by Sly
and the fami ly Stone came on. The opening piano and drum pan played and
Sly's blissfully composed lyrics of unified humanity sifted down onto the
plastic-wrapped sandwiches. The genuinity or Humpty's setr righteousness
juxtaposed with Sly's message of solid integrity and understanding was
digesting inside me like a torrid mixture or repulsion. Everything around
me suddenly made me feel nauseated by its self-approval. No one in LEON
noticed the music.

All of a sudden, my body felt as ii" I was being driven around in circles in a
multi-story carpark, searching for an irnpossiblc space on a hum id day with
emerging car sickness. The bearded men kit the cafo and I thought about
how they could probably eloqm:ntly discuss thdr love for .Jim Morrison but
they'd probably be at il l ease for their analysis of Sly Stone's lite.

Perhaps my timorous heartbreak wasn't so much for my recent breakup

but a for a loss of what I had always considered attractive in men. I then
realised that this humiliating casual relationship woke me up to the force d
unfam ili arities of being a \VOtnan and what was available to me.

Both mysel l'and Humpty were sti ll in an awkward silence. It wasn't exactly
the right place for us to be playing complicated power games; it was more
of a setting for him to consume culories in preparation ror our next activity.
He wasn't that bothered, either. Clearly lor him , his concept of me had
been tarnished -- he had researched me on the intemct. I was no longer a
mythically cruel, vaguely 'exotic' fantasy but a focused and accomplished
 DINING WITH I IUMl'TY DUMPTY

woman with a voice and a small amount of recognition for my ideas. Sly
Stone's voice became more elegant and defined as the song progressed, and
Humpty was absolutely obl ivious to it. I took a deep breath and focused on
my present company.

'I think you wi ll like where I am taking you next. It wil l he an exercise in
your lessons for female supremacy.·

Humpty began speaking with his mouth l'ul l of food. then stopped to linish
chev, ing his ch ips .
1

' Brilliant Mistress. I look fo rward to what you have planned. I do want you
to know. essays aside, I am happy to be domi nated and fed by you. I think
you are truly superior. I want you to know that it is sti ll my ultimate fantasy
to be turned into a spectacle and I do believe you can help me with this.'

' Good. You have to fini sh your food quickly but save the cake.· I walked
outside and leaned against the building's huge glass windows so Humpty
could see me smoke a cigarette.

A mix of anger. anxiety and painfu l self-doubt had been clouding my

perceptions of myself: men and my relationships to them , hut there was this
small rational need to try and wade through my experiences harking at me
from the back of my mind.

Although I love humans, some people are unfortunatel y truly blinkered and
smug in their spiteful and powerful comfort. What I do be lieve in is the
radica l poss ibi lities of women being completely and utterl y honest about
their emotions and experiences. What I love more th an men is pass ion ....
acting with zeal and confrontation in the aim of altruism. Afte r al l. what are
good intentions without action?

70
71
 HUMPTY 'S FOOD BLOG
Prior to the first time we met at Ed's di ner, Humpty and I had discussed
various strategies over how he could ga in weight. For the amount that he
wanted to put on, it was clear that his relationshi p lo food was going to
have to drastically change. There was no \Vay that I would be able to be
with him constantly to check what he was consuming so I ordered him to
discuss with me each evening his planned f()od intake for the next day and
then photograph any food he ate fo r a blog that I could supervise to see
how well he was behav ing. I chose a nc"v pair of scales for him to buy and
each Monday morning he would \\'eigh himself so that we could spectate his
progress. The documentation of his desires was an essentia l \\'ay for him to
prove to me that he was dedicated to his servi tude.

There is something truly mascul ine about Humpty's visualisation of his

meals. The cutlery he owns. the placement of the food on the plate and the
dim lig hting encapsulating his meals were nothing other than depress ing.

Four slices of fl imsy white bread. cut diagonally into eight triangles, were
bunered with an artificial yellow. Littering the sides of' his cobalt-bl ue dinner
place, the factory-made bread guarded the contents of the middle of the
plate. Within the midst of his IK EA crockery was a tin ful l of' steaming,
orange, tinned spaghetti. Behind the plate was a can of Pepsi Max . The flas h
of the camera bounced off of the tin, obscuring the environment of the food .

In another photograph , we see an al!rial shot or a wooden chopping board

with the shadows of Humpty 's hands holding the camera . On the board we
see six blocks of chocolate from a large bC"l r, seem ingly cut with a knife into
a smaller size.

Sometimes his blog would simply irritate me. Other than Humpty's distressing
lack of creativity or domesticity, he would also photograph the snacks he'd
purchased. The most nauseating or them was a pe1ck or 'jelly snakes' made
by a company who somehow intertwined the words 'tasty, natural, organic'
and ' no artificial colours or fla vours' into their plastic packaging.

Sometimes, Hum pty wou ld mix up the mass or his hachdor's meals with
found photos from the internet that encompassed his desires.
 1ll JMPTY'S rncm Bl.OG

For example, he added videos or the character Violet Beauregarde from

the iconic 1971 movie ' Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.' The clip
showed the scene where Violet greedily cats the wrong sweet which proceeds
to turn her into a human blueberry that cou ld only be horizontally wheeled
along the Aoor. Humpty's explanation for adding this image was that it was
one of his dreams to be rolled around like Violet -- as wide as he is long.

However, the most potent was or a stock image from the late ·90s of a huge
bean bag with Hawaiian flowers printed onto it in the shape of a square. The
initating piece of furniture had a glamorous model luxuriously reclining on
it. wearing a fedora tilled O\ er her face and high heels, while speaking on an
oversized phone. I later asked Humpty why he had im bedded this image into
his blog and he said that it \vas because he wanted to be like the bean bag
-- so large that a \\Oman could comfortably relax on him .
74
75
76
Hum pty stumbled outside to meet me, adjusting his bell on his trousers and
sclf'.-consc iously playing with the collar of his horrible leather jacket.

'Start eating the cake. Follow me, but don't walk with me. Stay just behind
me. I don't ,,·ant to be seen \\'ith you·

We walked down The Strand. past a Pret A Manger. Cale Nero, Starbucks,
Pizza Hut, McDonald's, six different banks, five phone shops and then to
a Sainsbury's Local. I stopped outs ide the convenience slon::: and turned to
Humpty. I had counted a total of ten homeless people and roughly sixty
tourists on this three-minute walk. I could hear Humpty gnaw ing away at his
cake and I turned around to look at him. He was heaving, trying to walk and
eat the cake with his hands at the same time.

'Before \\'C reach our destination, you have to get supplies. You need to
buy four dozen eggs, a pac ket ortampons, a toothbrush, toothpaste, some
painkillcrs and baby wipes. Don't ask me why.'

·Anything for you, Mistress.' Humpty replied.

I wai ted outside. Once he returned. it was five minutes lo two o'clock and I
walked towards Topshop.

·I need new clothes. You are going to gift them to me. Put the cake away.'

' Oh thank you, Mistress, that is a real thrill for me. Thank you!'

We walked into the the clothing shop. There was one large analogue photo
of a Black girl with features that case a white audience wearing grey knit
dresses a bove the tills. Then there were more photos of an aristocrat's
daughter wearing jeans plastered al l over the walls. The security guard
ignored us and The White Stripes were playing very loudly. It was a cover
of Dusty Springfield 's 'I Just Don 't Know What To Do With Myself.'

77
 DININ(i WIT! I I llJMPTY DUMPTY

·we' re going to be quick.' I said to Humpty.

I walked around the shop, fran tically throwing the badly made clothes around.
I made Humpty follow me, and then would shove the clothes at him once I'd
chosen. I picked up a multipack of knickers and socks, a heavy knit jumper,
wool hat, hairbrush. two long sleeved T-shi rt. backpack. gloves, a military-
stylc padded coat and a pair of jeans. It was hard to find garments that didn't
have annoying style clements to them like meagre bows or sensible static
stripes. Then there was the occasional bright green T-shirt that made the rest
o rthe clothes look sale.

'Very sensible and stylish choices fo r this weather, Mistress. These wil l look
stunning on you. I love the idea of you wearing clothes that I 'vc bought for
you.

I ignored him, walked up to the counter and waited for Humpty to pay.

As he walked towards me, I pushed a pair of lace knickers in hi s hand and

sa id , 'Don't stop walking.'

We Jett and I ordered him to finish the cake. Humpty looked at the knickers
in his hand and he seemed astonished.

'Arc these yours, Mistress?!' His eyes were wider than ever, as he look at
them he realised that they sti ll have the tag attached to them. ·Did you pay
for these, Mistress?'

"Shut up and put them in with the rest of the clothes.'

We crossed the road and Humpty gawpcd. knickers in hand. 'Mistress, do

you know that people stare at you when you walk down the street?'

'Women are always being watched. ' The words unexpectedly spat out of my
mouth .

·oh but, Mistress, you are so spec ial and so stunning. It's a proper tum on
ft)r me that men look at you like that.' He wiped crumbs from hi s mouth with
the back of his hand reveal ing his sma ll teeth.

· Wi II you j ust shut up? I don't want anyone to sec me with you.'
 TR/\F/\Lli/\R SQ\J/\ RE

' I'm sorry.' He got a kick out of me insulting him and wi thdrew backwards.

I stopped again outside the second Prct A Manger we 'd seen on our short
walk.

'We are going to go inside together, except I am going to sit down and watch
you. You will behave as if you don't know me. You arc going lo order a hot
chocolate and a soup, which you wi II pay for. Then on your way out, you are
going to take get four egg cress sandwiches, some chocolate, nuts, a large
bottle of waler, and some fruit. I will follow you outside once you have lefi.'

'It's not Easter yet, Mistress.' Humpty chonled. Then his race tell from its
plump grin to a seriousness. 'Wait, arc you asking me 10 shopl ift'?'

I rolled my eyes then laughed al him which turned hi m on. I wa1chcd how
his fore head was wincing \vhich seemed 10 indicate him contemplate how
he ethically felt about this.

·1t will be a real thri ll." I told him.which is sad, becausc for Humpty 1his
would probably get his heart beating fas1er 1han anything else has in a long
time. ·You know how much you want to please me. don't you?'

My assertion got him hot, and before he could answcr. I wa lked inside. For a
moment. I thought that Humpty's menia l shoplifting from this gargantuan ly
wealthy sandwich chain may have pushed him to his limits. Maybe he wou ld
leave? But no, he plodded in with a look or absolute terror on his face. his
eyes darting al l around the room . 1le pushed his shoulders up as he walked
to the till and kept his focus to the floor as he ordered.

A large group of teenage tourists stumbled inside and got in the queue behind
Humpty. I didn 't take my eyes off or him, and once he turned around to
leave, he met my gaze and he knew that he had to behave. He was trying 10
act natural; it is clear that he really thinks that the employees of the sandwich
shop wi ll care. His naivety is wrought with a claus1rophobia ror fo llowing
the rules. He grabbed the food, then almost sprinted outside, cradling them
in his anns. He 'd forgotten the water, so I took two bollles and calmly left.

Humpty was cowering underneath the awning of a Fi ve Guy's burger chain,

stuffing his stolen goods into the Topshop bag. I took my time walk ing
towards him, full y aware that there is probably no human being in the world
79
 DI NINCI WITH llUMl'TY DUMPTY

who cares about stealing food from the most over-populated chain in London
-- except Humpty -- and that no one would be following us oul.

'You didn 't obey me.' I sa id cooly.

'Are you joking. Mistress?!·

I threw the two bottles of water at him , he tried to catch them, only getting
one with his ri ght hand and the other falling to the pavement and rolling
towards the curb. He clumsily chased after it, leaving the shopping bags on
the floor then came back to me.

'Oh you are right, Mistress. I hope you can find a place inside of yourself to
understand how hard that was for me. I had to risk so much by doing that. I
wouldn't really like to do anything illegal again.'

' Hand me those bags. I need to rearrange them.'

I took two of the egg sandwiches and put them in the bag of eggs, then
put the toiletries and the food in with the bag or clothes and knickers. then
handed the bags back to Humpty. I began walking to the end of The Strand
letting Humpty walk behind me. I stopped outside the doorstep of the Aats
above a Ll oyds bank where there was a homeless woman begging.

'Take out your wallet and hand me the bags.' I said lo Humpty.

I smiled at the woman. She was sitting on a damp, green sleeping bag.
Humpty stood beside me , ignoring her hy fac ing the opposite side of the
street.

' Hand me all of the shopping except l'or the bag or eggs.' The woman gazed
at me, and Humpty rustl ed the paper bag awkward ly. He was angry and
r maintained contact with the woman so she wouldn't notice Humpty's
discomfort.

' Why are you taking so long? ' I knew that Humpty was hating this. I handed
the woman the food and clothes.

·1 hope this makes things a little easier for you,' I said.

80
 TR1\FAUi /\I{ SQL JARE

Ooth the woman and Humpty were overwhel med in the most contrasting of
ways.

·Thank you. Thank you so much. ·

She was hum iliated, but with that came an uncomfo11able, yet rea l,
grate rulness. I telt embarrassed too, but why?

Humpty coughed and nodded. He c learly didn ' t want to converse with the
woman. Humpty 's wallet was in his hand and I seized it, handing woman
some notes, then gave it back to him .

We s miled at each other and we \\·alkcd away. Humpty was heavi ly breathing
out o r his indescribably s pineless nose.

' Mistress, that was way out of ordt:r. I am not paying for other people's
mistakes! I' ve never given money to the homeless. She \Vas obviously a
heroin addict. It's not my problem that she made stupid choices!'

'Do you think that woman has sex? For her own pleasure?' I asked, diverting
his temper.

Humpty once again looked dumbfou nded.

' What kind o f question is that') Of course she doesn't have sex. It is illegal
to have sex in public! '

' So, are you saying that you believe that the pleasures or sex is a right on ly
reserved for those who can afford it? Is female pleasure an economic iss ue?'

He v.ias becoming agitated; he 'd clearly never ruminated over the experience
of the homelessness with any depth and fe lt angry because he didn ' t know
how to reply.

' Well. she wasn 't capable of being an upstanding member of society! She
chose to take drugs, Mistress.·

·Did she choose to be homeless? To have her life in constant danger? To be

treated as a s ubhuman? Docs anyone make that choice?'

81
 DINING WITH HUMPTY OUMPTY

Humpty stared at the pavement breathing heavily.

'Do you think that was a humiliating experience for her -- us giving her
basic things like food, clothes and sanitary products'?'

'No, Mistress. I expect that she will be very grateful for our generosity.'

I groaned, 'You really are fucking disgusting. You know that, don't you?'

'Yes, Mistress. I am a worthless pig.'

My insult had t:xcited him on.

'You can afford lo be humiliated because humiliation is a luxury to you,

isn't it?'

Once again, he remained horrifically silent. I was exasperated for having to

spell out to him what we 'cl just experienced. My real temper. despite the fact
that Humpty was paying for me to keep under a calm and controlled veneer,
was beginning to crack. He was oblivious to it. My anger was still a tum on
for him.

'You desire to make me happy, don't you?'

He lifted his head and stared at my lips.

'Oh yes, you know that that is my main focus in Ii fc. I love to obey you.' His
breathing went from resentful to lustful.

l rolled my eyes as he reverted back into a weakling.

'Seeing you give to those less able made me happier -- well, I don't know
if happy is a word that you are worthy of. Essentially l put you in a position
where you weren't just thinking about how to make yoursel r and your
immediate Ii le better.'

'She was probably a prostitute," he replied. ''I always think that it must be
easier for women on the streets to be able to make more money li ke that.
They have that option where men don't.'

82
 TRAFALGAR SQUARE

I j uued out my leg in front of him, without my brain even havi ng enough
li me to formul ate what I was going to clo. He had his head held high as we
walked down the street, so he didn 't sec my leg. He went flying and landed
on his palms and knees outside an accessories shop.

'Oh, I am so sorry. I am so clumsy!' I said through grined teeth . A man

behind him offered to help him up.

Humpty looked up at me from the pavement. His abi lity to see me from
be low was turn ing him on.

'Get up.'

We carried on \\'alking, then I stopped to face him at the traffic lights as we

wa ited to cross the road. I stared at his black leather jacket, making him very
aware that I was doing il. The jacket had a round collar and finished at his
waist. It was a piece of clothing that looked like nothing. It didn't have the
biker associations that it would ha\'e originated from, just two pockets at
his hips and a couple of small metal bunons at the collar. It was completely
incongruous and this normal ised presentat ion is never questioned.

What ki nd or person designs garments for men like this'.' What do they have
for breakfast? What music do they listen to when they go for a run? What
would they name their children? What do they get pleasure out of when their
contribution lo the world is making bland clothes for uni versal men?

A motorbike shrieked past us tO\vards the river at an acce lerated speed and
sound. The noise was so abrasive. so intrusive. It fill ed the street and the
person riding it wanted t:vcryone to hear and see him . It sounded and looked
like erectile dys function.

·Your jacket is re\·olting. · 1said. Humpty automatically seemed turned on by

my unexpected insult.

'Thank you. Mistress. I want you to know that you look exceptionally stylish
and truly gorgeous today. It feel s like an honour to be in your presence. '

Trafalgar Square is in a public space in the centre of London that was

created in remembrance of a stoic Brit ish history filled with self-
congratulatory violence. We waded through the mammoth dedi cations
8:1
 DININ<i WITH HUMPTY D UMPTY

10 dead men made in stone towards The National Gallery. There was a
gathering in the distance but, from where we were, it wasn't yet clear
what was being demonstrated. Within the mass of a few hundred people, I
could see that there were people from a variety of ages and backgrounds,
many of whom were waving banners and placards under the vivid gloom
o r London's densely palpable sky.

A woman was speaking on a megaphone but it wasn't yet clear vvhal she
was saying. As we got closer, we could see banners with the female symbol
and placards saying, 'Women 4 Women ,' and, 'A Life Without Fear,' being
thrown into the air.

'Is this what you've brought me to, Mistress? A demonstration? For

!Cminism? 1 must admit, I have never actually been to one but this could be
the perfect introduction to my new studies! Whal a brilliantly educational
event you've taken me to. I will learn so much here!·

Humpty said this with a painful amount of self-praise. It was tragic; he

seemed genuinely excited.

In many ways, this was a fantasy turned into reality for him because he
was about to be surrounded by strong women -- a resilience that he was
superficially perceiving as sexy confidence but really sterns from legitimate
anger. I was treating him with distance. His outburst or expected, but
menacing, entitlement earlier had made me wary of how to navigate his
new perspective of me as he fell in and out or being submissive.

Sisters Unscvered are a truly brilliant activist group fighting for the rights
of contemporary women in Britain. Since the Conservative Party came
into power in 2009, an influx of abhorrent actions have taken place against
the most vu lnerable women in our country as an action for 'saving our
economy.' As class divisions grow, domestic violence is escalating. More
and more women have become literal punching bags to their partners who
are experiencing the emasculation of unemployment and the labyrinths of
alienating capitalist work and benefit structures.

Places of refuge are closing down left, right and centre; women control led
under domestic violence an: dying at a shocking level or two per week.
Austerity is making women poorer than they already were, magnifying a
tee ling of helpless indignity. Cuts lo legal aid are making women Jess safe;
84
 T lti\F/\l.GA R S()UARE

migrant womrn have less access to housing- and j ob-seeki ng benefits and
cuts to the national health service mean that reproductive rights are more
complex to navigate.

The list goes on and things aren't getting any better. However. Sister's
Unsevered present us i,.vith a powerful and honourable reaction aga inst
this appal ling polarity which is flourishing with brutal acceleration. And
the women here were veritable because marginalised homeless, migrant
and working class women don 't emotionally incite the white middle class
enough for them to get in\'Ol\'cd with mass action.

In a time where diversity is an aim less commodity, being in a space where it

was nan1ral revived an energy of humanitarianism in me.

These were the people who were demonstrating after having walked through
Soho fo r their final meeting place. Men arc not allowed to go to Sisters
Unscvered meetings but, when they meet in public, anyone can interact with
their statements. I turned to Humpty before we walked up the stairs to the
National Gallery's sombre, neo-classical facade.

· I have taken you here bet:ause I am dcdit:ated to you learning more about
female supremacy. You have a respons ibil ity, and you need to understand it
as a man. Is this understood'?'

·Oh yes, Mistress, it is. Thank you ever so much for this opportunity.'

'Take one of the egg sandwiches and start eating it.'

·M istress. I ha\·e already eaten a lot already today. I think it 's too much·

I stopped walking and briskl y turned around to him . He shuddered at my

abrupt movement, and I stepped closer to hi m, looking down at him . I then
locked eye contact with him !'or as long as I could without blinking. This
made him tremble in the most nauseatingly sensational way and he began
to breathe incredibly quickly. His pa le blue eyes sheltered in his clammy
fac e exerted an impossible desire and futile longing for me, and I hated it. It
got to a point where it made me too uncomfortable; his patheticness was so
fraudulent. So, I abruptly tore away.

85
 DININ(_i WI Tll lllJMPTY DUMPTY

I carried on. up past the crowds of people and to a table full of leaflets and
other literature. Humpty was self-consc iously biti ng at his w hite sandwich
behind me and I poinled at the books. T here was a woman in her sixties
wearing a badge with Angela Davis' face on it behind the table.

' This man voted for the Conservati ves. He has also told me that he loves
women. Therefore, he is going to buy one of everything you have on this
table.' I spoke as if I was introducing him as an inanimate object , rather than
a hum an with any control.

Humpty was standing next to me and the woman behind the table gave him
an excruciating stare of disgrace so thick in response that it felt as if it was
<li tfosing all around us.

'You are doing a good job with him, love. I wish we could make all of these
blindingly selfish people sec the damage they have done.'

'Charge him extra; he needs to give back.· She began coll ecting each book
from the table and l turned to Humpty.

' How are women ever going to become empowered when s uch basic aspects
of daily life that you take for granted are so grossly unequal?' I picked up
a leaflet that had photographs of modem Dickensian ·safe spaces' that
the government were olTering for women and their chi ldren leaving their
abusive partners.

· Look at these photos. ls this how we make our soci ety better'! By making
the weaker less stable and more endangered, just so the free market \Vorks
in your advantage?'

Humpty swallowed the last comer of his sandwich and picked up the other
triangle of bread and egg. The woman hehind the table joined in with me.

'Two women a week arc murdered because the Conservative Party have
rinsed essential government spend ing of its social infrastructure. Thal is two
women a week -- that is me and this woman here -- in one week. Do you
even understand the grav ity of that? T hat's 106 women a year whose lives
<.:ould have been saved ii' we had a more caring government \·vho weren't
just interested in mak ing the rich ri cher!' her voice was raising. and she
r
consciously stopped hersel from speaking to him.
 TRAF:'\l.(it\R SQUARE

Humpty appeared like a small boy who had been asked a question at school
that he didn ' t know the answer to.

·When was the last time you didn't fee l sate'?' I asked him. He stayed
silent. ' Do you think that safety is a privilege?' He carried on chewing. The
woman behind the table handed him the bag of books then asked him:

·f f you have a problem, will it always be solved for you? Wi ll there always
be someone to listen to you, give yo u advice and solve your problems? '

Humpty was feeli ng allacked and I could see his fac ial expressions slipping
out of his fantasy as he went from to coy to defensive.

'Wel l you know, not all men arc bad ! Just because my Grandfather and
Father worked hard enough that they could help me purchase my flat and
help me \Vith my uni fees doesn't mean that I don't have problems too! Now
with the daily threat or ISIS none of' us can feel safe!'

The woman behind tht:: table let out a loud groan then laughed to herself', she
turned to me.:. ·You really couldn" t make this up could you'.''

'There is a big di fference between · fee ling' something and the reality of
what is actually happening to you.' I asserted. ·It is quite ev ident that you
are simply just a collection of your unchallenged experiences, this is what
makes up your weak character.'

He took another bite from his sandwich and I took a piece of card out of
my bag which has string attached to it. I put the string over his head and
let the card hang on his chest. The card was the dimension of a broadsheet
newspaper and read in big, red letters ' I voted for the Tories.'

'You will wear this for the rest of the day. Pay this woman and make sure
you read e\·c.:rything that she has given you.' He handed her three £ 10 notes
with a shaking hand.

'Gui lt money,' she sa id laughing and shaking her head. 'Daddy's money
won't bring back those.: women.'

I knew that Humpty was on the verge of becom ing overwhelmed so it was
no\v time for me to di rect him back into his illusions of te malc supremacy.
87
 DINI NG WIT! I I llJMPTY DUMPT Y

I said goodbye to the woman. made Humpty apologise for voting for the
Conservatives and we walked away. Like a domino effect, eyes from the
crowds of people began to cascade onto Humpty reading his card's statement.

We walked a little \\·ay out of the crowd closer to a \\'hitc busker with
dreadlocks who was trying to capitalise on the throws oftourists caterpillaring
in and out or the The National Gallt:ry. He was playing impassionately and
singing as if he really owned whatever song it was he was covering. As we
got closer, 1 realised that he was playing Tracy Chapman 's 'Tn lkin ' bout a
Revoluti on' with absolutely no irony. as if the song was just comfortable
sound with out any meaning and a way for the \.vhitc dreaded mnn to express
himself.

"Mistress. I'm not so sure if this is a good idea. tht:se women look very
angry, do you think they will do something to me?'

'You want there to be more powerfu l women in the world don' t you'? What
better way is there of accomp lishing this than learning as much as you can
so you can spread it to your friends and family afterwards, so you can make
them understand the reality of their views? Imagi ne if there had been no
Janis Joplin or Patti Smith. imagine if one of those women who dies every
week could have been the future Debbie Harry?'

For the first time in Humpty's presence, I fe lt truly sick having to compare
these frighteningly exploited deceased women to his emblems of a digestible
past j ust so Humpty could begin to understand that all women's lives matter
and not j ust the caucasian ones wi th glamorous li ves.

' I understand you, Mistress. Now I have this readi ng material, what else can
we do here?' He said the words with a pleading nature. he wanted to leave.

·we are imprisoned in our bodies with impossible standards or behaviour

and you arc not,' I said to hini. ' You know, all we ever are is our personalities
regardless O f the bodies WC inhabit.'

I clocked eye contact again and stepped closer to him . ·The only thing
tru ly gluttonous about you is your mental laziness to the abject strangeness
and harrow that truly eclipses the modern work, you are hab itually selfish.
Your inabi lity to truly dedicate yourscl l"to your pleasure - or becom ing your
authentic self is as pathetic as it is tragic.·
88
 TR:'\FAl.(jAR SQUARE

·Thank you, Mistress. ·

·What you need now is a rebirth -- a bludgeoning into emotional

responsibi Iity.•

'Oh, Mistress you arc divine! Punish me for the sub that 1 real ly am! Enlighten
me even more to the goodness or women! Don't be subtk with me.'

A man walked past Humpty and shouted 'Tory Scum· at him. He watched
the floor.

·Lift your head up. accept and understand what you have done.' A group of
women started booing in his direction.

1 was completely fixated with watch ing Humpty in his grow ing awareness of
himsell~ I began walk ing around him in a circle as if I was inspecting him.
His jeans were neither dark indigo or a light blue, they were neither tight
nor loose and they littcc.I around his arse in a way that ex1.:elled in the most
terrible unconsc ious vulnerabi li ty -- as if he had never thought about anyone
looking at him there.

His jeans ended sensibly just below the ankle so they wouldn't get dirty
and gathered slightl y with no climax. This is what we ca ll a bootleg cut. He
was wearing a brown leather belt to match his brown shoes. I wish I knew
how to explain his shoes but they simply del)' shape, depth or personality
and in that alone there was a wasted tragedy of an arrogantly neglected
expression.

' I have another task for you. Unfortunately you have no getting out of it
and 1 won't accept you refusing lo obey me. ' 1 forced eye contact with him,
trying to reconnect with him so he would remember why he was here.

He finished his sandwich and 1 ordered him to start the next one . Pigeons
started shifting towards his teet wanting the crumbs from his food.

·Did you know that the word humiliation stems from the word humble?' I
asked him.

1 walked to a clearing from the crowds of people who were gathering around
us more and more. We stood next to the wa ll that overlooked the square and
89
 DINI NG WITI I HUMPTY DUM PTY

its loud fou ntains. More insults \Vere being thrown at him and I foc ussed on
keeping Humpty connected to me.

'You arc a menace to society!· shouted a woman.

' No, I didn't know that about the word humble, Mistress. You arc so clever;
he said from behind me.

·vou have blood on your hands,' shouted an elderly woman.

' I didn't think you would. Personally. when I think of something humble, or a
humbling experience I think of something that makes us irrevocably human.
It's Latin origin 's quite literally translates into being close to the ground.'

'I hope you sleep well in your ivory lower,' sa id one woman with her chi ldren
in passing.

I took out another piece of card from my bag and a small bow l then put it at
Hum pty's feet:

I AM SINGING FOR DONATIONS TOWARDS SfSTER 'S UNSEV ERED.

Humpty's eyes bulged even more at the sight of

the sign.

' Mistress, what arc you doing'? I rea lly don't

know ir me being here is a good idea.,

'I thought you wanted to eat in front of strong

women? Be humil iated around strong women?
I thought that you wanted to do everything that
you could to help make womcn ·s lives better?'
I asked.

'Well, yes, umm ... yes. I do. But I don't know how this wil l help?'

'Remember, we agreed that everything I do is good for you? The most

evocative way to learn is through experience.·

Humpty nodded apprehensively.

90
 TR/\FALGAR SQUA RE

·You are going to sing to raise money for women in jeopardy, so you can
help make them sec ure.'

· 1 would be happy to donate money to this cause, Mistress, ' he pleaded.

I cut him before he could carry on. 'No, you are going you work for it, you
are going to face what you've done,' I said.

I took a sheet of pa1x:r out of my bag and handed it to Humpty 's free hand
that wasn't holding a sandwich. 'Read these words like a good boy.'

A young woman walked towards us with a brill iant confidence, I could sense
that she wanted to explode at Humpty.

·You think that your inl1uence doesn ' t matter; you on ly care about yo urself.'
she shouted.

I laughed at him. It was the most bcamiful adrenaline rush to watch him
being chalknged and out of his comfort zone.

'That isn 't true, I just have no interest in paying for other people's mistakes.
I work hard for my money.'

We both stepped closcr to him, looking down on his llat head. Another
woman walked up to him,

·You should be ashamed and embarrassed ,,·ith yoursdC she said calmly.
·And when you say m istakes, it is those o f your class evading tax which is
the real mistake here. ' She walked away s haking her head.

·This is what is going to happen.· I took the bag of eggs and books from
where he'd placed them by his feet. 'You are going to sing for your mistakes
and all of the money is going to go towards this cause. I ha vc thought long
and hard about which song would be appropriate for yo ur simple tastes and
shallow cultural knowledge so I wanted to find a song with palpable guttural
emotions, exceptiona l creative integrity and most importantly inescapable
passion.' A crowd was beginning to s lowly S\,varm around us and I turned to
them so they could understand what was about to happen .

91
 DI NING \VITI I 1l lJM PTY DUM PTY

'This man voted for the Tories in the last election but also claims that he is
a fem ale supremacist. I am sure that we can all confidentl y confi rm that he
is not. Therefore, I have brought him here to sing for his insensitivity. All
donations wi II go to Sister's Unsevered.'

A loud roar of appreciation and laughter came from the p1.:ople circling us.
I pulled out small speakers from my bag then turned to Humpty. His face
was burning up into a slimy red and his mousy hair was becoming damp
with sweat which visualised him into new realms of pervers ity in the co ld
of January 's spiritless wind. One of his ha nds was holding the sheet of
raper and other was helping him ingest the last half of his egg sandwich,
mayonnaise caught in the crevices of his thin lips. He was now completely
surrounded by people. he could have escaped but there was a depraved
enjoyment twinkling from his small eyes as they clamped onto what was
written on the paper.

I placed the speakers by his fee t th1.:n turned them on. A crescendo of ecstatic
strings snapped out of them quick ly fo llowed by the assertive and balanced
sounds or a bass, electric guitar, drums and piano.

·Start now. · I ordered.

I lumpty lilted his head and arm holding the paper and in the most tragical ly
proper voice sang;

T m every woman, it's all in meecce. '

The people burst into laughter. and a few started moving to the music.

'Anything you want done, baby. I'll do it natura lly.'

He wasn't so much singing but reading the words in a throbbingly monotone

English banality.

'S ing!' I ordered.

' I want to feel your emotion. Do not disrespect Chaka Khan by doi ng a lazy
rendition of this!' I honestly want Humpty to express some kind sentiment,
I knew rh at society was quashing his ability to.
 TRAFALGAR S()UARE

A man laughing hysterically flicked some coins into the bowl by his feet. I
took a pack or eggs out of the plastic bag and opened them, turn ing to the
crowd I took another sign oul of my bag that read:

DONATIO NS TO EGG A TORY

' I'm every ·woman, it 's all in meeee.'

There was 111 orc laughter, and more people gathered around us. An elderly
woman immediately handed me some coins and took an egg. She threw
it at his shoulder as the words, 'Anything you want done baby, l' II do it
naturally,' spewed out of his thin and formal mouth again. Humpty didn 't
seem to react to the egging and focu sed his eyes on the sheet of lyrics.

·woah, woah, woahhhhhh.'

You know, once you crack an egg there is no going back. Eggs are incredibly
delicate and once one is damaged it w ill most probably be ruined beyond
repair. T here is pcn·ersity lo cracking an egg, its sharp coat inhabiting its
viscous insides, its substance is sort of grotesque because it is so relatablc, so
undeniably physical. In many ways an egg is just another tailed procreation ,
completely. ulterly and unfortunately fe male. Fe1ti lity and fragility, an all
encompassing symbol fo r the undenia ble responsibilities of the female .

The crowd was now becoming larger and people were surrounding me for
eggs. 1 fixed eye contact with Humpty, trying to make him connect \.vith the
euphoria of Khan's song by nodding my head in time. Some of the \.vomcn
in the cro\vd started dancing and singing along, which encouraged him . I
turned the music up. 'Sing louder! ' I s houted. The song's pace was speeding
up and I watched more faces walk up to us and burst out laughing. My heart
was beating faster and I took an egg and hurled it at his chest. 1t slopped over
his placard and then down to his crotch, the yolk remained compact until
gravity took over and the ye llow blob exploded onto the floor in between
his feet.

' I can cast a spell , with secrets you can't tel l.'

Humpty was finding it difficult to keep up with the lesser known lyrics of the
song which made more women laugh at him.

93
 DIN ING WITI I HUMPTY Dl IMPTY

·Anytime you fee l danger or fea r ... Instantly I will appear!·

There is nothing perfect about the action of cracking an egg, you never
know how the shell will fragment. Yet the satisfaction or breaking one is
incomparable to many other simple pleasures in life. Once the shell is broken
it becomes unpredictable, it could fragment into tiny, sharp organic pieces
getting lost in the eggs yolk and ruining its consumption. Ir an egg is broken
away from its cu linary environment. they are very difficult to clean. Their
insides an: consistency slimy and thick until broken, then once revealed to
the world they dry -- becoming clammy then morphing into a crust until it's
gloop becomes solid and tough.

A woman in her fortie s was watching intently. she didn't appear to have the
confidence to ask to egg him so I handed her one and she catapulted it at him
with fervour. A teenage girl who had been sheepishly spcctating stepped up
and smashed an egg right into his forehead with a perfect bal l throwers aim.
Fragments of the shell gl ided into his mouth, he gagged and snorted, spi tting
the raw mucous on to the floor.

' It 's all in meeeece.'

He was in a trance, his beady eyes fixated with the younger women dancing
and singing along in fron t of him.

·woahhhhh, woahh woahhh! '

But really what docs a misogyni st look like 9 The hysteria of Britain's
neo-liberal lonel iness makes it impossi ble to pinpoint one fig ure of
absolute selfishness. However. here was Humpty within a sea of people
enthusiastically angry about the exploitation the government were serv ing
to the most exposed and -- with the most glaring clarity. within this sea of
people who had congregated to express their zealous outrage and empathy
for others -- he symbol ised it all. People started chanti ng the lyrics and
joyfully dancing together and I joined in as an elderly lady jubilantly swayed
in front or me. Not all protest should be serious and angry. of course those
elements are essential but, at that moment, l realised how imperative the
unity that vi rtuous music can enable. A sense of freedom was elevating, a
liberation to move and act however we wanted and nothing could scare or
shame us. We were moving for ourselves and no one could appropriate that
from us.
94
 TRAFALGAR SQlJAR[:

'Anything you want done baby -- I' ll do it naturally. ·

I lumpty is annoying and his disparaging views of women and his blindness
to his identity's impact is perilous. However I don 't believe that he means
to ham1, in fact I don' t think many men want to mistreat women but more
simply; they aren't taught how to Jive with women with equivalence. Then
when some men sense the status quo distort, they only react with fear. A
relationship that bares ro les can never achieve equali ty but it is ultimately
only up to us how we want to perform our assigned role and in that there
is progression.

· Woah, woah woah. '

The woman with the Angela Davis badge took an egg from me. we met
each other's eyes and it was ham1ony. I took a badge: out of my pocket and
auached it to the lapel of my coat. It read 'TORY SLAV E.' None orus want
to be defined by our eggs.

·And when it comes down to some good old fashioned love, that's what I 'vc
got!'

Humpty placed his hands which were plastered with .:gg shell to his chest
and closed his eyes as the words escaped his fine lips. Just as he began to
let out another wail an egg 'vas thrown right into hi s mouth, breaking at his
chin, yolk momentarily dispersing into a psychedelic spasm before gravity
took over. Rccause of the eggs delicacy it can be tempting to want to handle
it with aggression, a knowledge that thc human is more powerful than it. A
human has the power to control the egg, to decide its future.

Modern masculinity refuses to have to acknowledge that women are being

motivated to be confidcnt and there arc very few models in the media of
men encouraging this or fin ding strong women desirable. Of course, men
acknowledge it but how many practice it? For Humpty, powerful women can
only be a fetish , a kink which is secret and only applies in private because
the reality living his life proudly like this is too conflicting for hi s ego. More
people started getting down to the music and the sound of fema le laughter
was filling the comer of thc ekphantin.: stone square. I opened up another
pack of eggs and women started scrambl ing for them and throwing coins
into the bowl by Humpty's feet.
 DINING WITI I 1IUMPTY Dl IMPTY

··J'm every woman, it's all in meee. ·

Humpty was really getting into it. a beautiful organ ic delirium was
assembling and I never wanted it to end. As women launched eggs al him.
they high fi ved each other and laughed, thei r am1s would exuberantly reach
into the air in exaltation of Chaka Khan's vivacious brill iance and Humpty's
remedial drama.

1 span the elderly lady around and I felt a smile creep onto my face that was
real. Then taking an egg, 1 walked over to the white man with dreadlocks
and threw it at him, smashing into his khaki military jacket. l ignored his
reaction and instead turned round to two women who saw what I'd done
and were laughing uncontrollab ly. We compulsively hugged each other then
went back over to Humpty who was oscillating his square hips out of time
as Chaka Khan 's crescendo was becoming rhapsodic. One woman picked
up the bowl of money and was walking around with it, letting more people
donate amidst the growing crowd. There must have been about fifty women
and a few men surrounding him but now there were no eggs left. I found the
woman with the Angela David badge and held her hand then said.

·Let's circl e him. ' Our understanding of each other was instantly instinctual.

'Woahhhhh , woahh wocihhh ! '

Quickly women became connected, the ring started off smal l, then more
women broke into it, and we all sang ' I' m Every Woman' at the top or our
lungs. Hum pty was drenched in egg, we were moving clockwise around him
and he began laughing uncontrollably in between the lyrics.

Watching the eggs slide down his round collared black leather jacket induced
in me the most intense sensation of waste. The frag ility of the shell rode off the
eggs mucous like tiny surfboards down his arms, the power of his appa ll ing
leather jacket with the eggs intrinsic and powerful femininity ,·isualiscd the
most capti vati ng corruption. Like a broken egg, I-lumpty·s mascul inity and
the thin exterior of his belief in fema le supremacy was shattered and it could
never be repa ired. Before the actions taken this afternoon. it was already
broken but sometimes people just need to sec the cracks that exist within
themselves which they so bl issfully ignore.

'Woah, wooahhh woaahhhh!'

 TR AFALGAR SQUARE

The potency of his passivity was leaking uncontrollably from his pink pores,
blood was rushing up under the surface of his neck, he was sweating and
convulsing, his eyes were rolling to the backs of his head. He lifted his arms
up and let out a loud groan.

· 1·m every womaaaaaaaan. ·

I lis sign fel l off his chest under the weight of the cracked eggs mutat ing
towards the ground, everyone was smi ling, singing and laughing with an
undeniable honesty. Unconsciously our ring was hiding the men who were
trying to look into see what was happen ing. Humpty's fantasy was now real.

'I'm every woman! I'm every wooooomaan! I' m every woman!'

As the song was end ing, he started stamping his feet. wheel ing his hands,
pa lms out at his chest and shaking his head from side to side. The mucous
was dripping in long, thick strings off his jeans to the lloor as he stodgi ly
moved his legs. It was truly morti fying <lancing which made the women
laugh eYen more. He was pcrfonning fo r us and it was grossly sincere.

T he song faded out and we started to slow down, a \voman on the other side
or the circle from me began lo walk forward, bringing the chain of women
in with her, we all starting walking towards him, hands still joined, closing
in on him. Humpty 's fa ce was ecstatic and we all stopped so we wouldn't be
close enough to touch him . The yolks smel l was repugnant and his hair was
clamped to his sk ull with the vibrancy of" lhe yolk's yellow mucus infiltrating
his short beige hair. Pieces or shell were in his ears and running do'<vn the
collar of his jacket down to his sensible amount of chest hair underneath his
V-neck T-shirt. There was even mucus stuck in his short eye lashes obscuring
of his sight. He was snorting the drips or eggs that were falling down his
short nose then lightly retching.

"I'm e\·ery wooooomaan! I'm every woman! I'M EV ERY WOMAN!'

More women were behind me I turned my head and we were al l congregating

together, layers of us cocooning him. Every dominant aspect or me
disintegrated as I felt the warmth of the women cover us in a magni ficent
unity. Then I heard a femak cry close by. The noise wasn't a scream of fear
but a sound of accelerated and compulsive reaction. The woman wailing
moved closer to Humpty 's face; until she was screaming right into it.
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 DININ< i \.\'ITH HUMPTY DUMPTY

Another woman next to her put her arm around her then another woman
statied howling as soon as the initial woman finished then this carried on in
cohesion and it sounded like heaven.

'Woomaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan !! !! •

Humpty was in a trance, his egg stained body began munnuring, 'Thank
you, women. Thank you for everything, women! I love women! '

He couldn 't be heard over the wailing. Occasionally. an insult would be

thrown at him which would elicit him to drool adding his own saliva to the
eggs albumen creating a repulsive smegma. The eggs were wasted but eggs
eject themselves from us and this is expcded to rem ain unseen -- this is not
an option.

The sound o r shrieking was elevating, there was a focused sophistication

to the frenzy that was amounting. In a ti me of evolving digital isolation,
unified desi re for nostalgia and the adoration of modified artificial ity. at
least what we were experiencing was real and Humpty ''"as hysterically
real and there was nothing we could do to deny this. We loved to fee l the
vibrations of his lack of control that was uni ting us; the demeaning betrayal
of' his support was reverberating obsessively through our minds as an act
of esteem then . It \.vasn 't pleasant or enjoyable but at least we knew that
our emotions were our own and that expressing them was good. We could
decide \vhat to do with them and they were never to be taken for granted
because we couldn't afford that. I began t.o think about all of the count.less
humiliating wol r-whistles and barks, outrageous patronisations, aggressions,
underestimations and interruptions, uncha llenged but nonnalised paternal
disinterest. undisguised stares or being followed home that not only I but
every single \.voman endlessly experiences and these moments stay still in
my mind, impenetrable, inaudible and ephemeral and although I dislike
them they arc undisputed. What we were doing to Humpty was not good or
pleasant but it \\·as genui ne. We were basking in the glory of being able to
be ourselves, authenticity was what we were giving him and today thnt is the
greatest gin that you can give anyone.

Then, as natura lly as the screaming had began it appeared to sedate into small
gasps, shrills and chirps. Our anomaly began to break up with a tranqui lity
that was only available after such exertion and I became immersed in an
unique calmness. We uncoi led ourselves from one another, emerging into
98
 TRAFALGAR SQL'ARE

small groups of discussion. The mass was di ssipating and the demonstration
had been going on unaffected this whole time. The women returned to it,
some humming along to Chaka Khan and others playfully with their anns
inter-joined. I was handed the bowl which was now full of money, took what
Humpty had paid me for that day out of my purse, put it in the bowl and then
gave it to the woman \.Vith the Angela Davis badge.

I turned to Humpty, placing his books by his side. Ht! was drooling and his
eyes were misted over \\'ith contenum:nt. he stumbled to the wall behind him
and leaned against it. Wiping egg away from his eyes in his catatonic state
he munm1red:

· 1 love you, Mistress. You have enlightened me. I can now see. My male
entitlement has died and I am now reborn as a real feminist!' He wasn't able
lo listen to me and I could tel l that he had an erection.

·Shame ki lls people, Humphrey.' I said.

As he held himself up against the wall , he was once agai n encompassed in my

vision but now we were surrounded by something fa r more tyrannous than
the newly dispersed female hysteria. Uig Ren was over his right shoulder
and Admiral Horatio Nelson was baring his chest on a fifty metre column
over his lell . There was an ejaculating fountain at his right side and a statue
of male Iion made in bronze at his left arm .

The space was paralysed and all around us there were three other stone
statues of dead men of war glory watching us. The sky \\'aS thicker than ever
with heavy dark clouds and Humpty's slimy body slipped down from where
he'd propped himself up and he lay s ideways on the flo or smiling in ecstasy
with his hand over his eggy crotch.

l)l)
 . "

JOO
With special thanks to Sylvia Abbis. Louisa Maybury, Jess Maybury.
Samantha Owen, Will Sheldon. Taylor Trabulus. James Theseus 8uck,
Luke Brooks, Rozsa Farkas. Ruth Pilston , Louis Backhouse, Matty Bovan,
Odessa Straub, Torey Thornton. Max Allen, Ruth Davidson, Hope Plcscia-
Buchi, Alistair O'Neill. Melanie Ashley, Harman Bains. Pablo Flack.
David Waddington, Harri et Scott, El len Jean Turner. Ed Marler, Matthew
Josephs, Hannah Lam bert, New Noveta, Pame la Church-Gibson, Rachel
Whiteread, Marcus Taylor, Cassie Tickell Painter, Daniel Sallstrom,
Akeem Smith, Nicola Guy. Bridget Donahue, Conor Donlon, Women's
History Museum, Gabriela Rivera-Morales. Simon Pa1Tis, Caroline Coon.
and Chaka Khan.

Reba Maybury is a writer. political dom inatrix and lect urer. She is the
founder or Wet Satin Press and, in 201 7. she published her first novella
'Dining with Humpty Dumpty'. She teaches a program in subversive
thinking at Central Saint Martins on the Fashion Masters. Her work has
recently been exhibited at Karma Intern ationa l, Los Angeles (2017); Gavin
l3rown·s Enterprise, New York (2018) as a part of 'Putting Out' which
Maybury curated \vi th Taylor Trabulus; and Arcadia Missa, London (2018 )
by whom she is represented.
DINING WITll HU!'vlPTY DU\WTY

104
"Reba Maybury's tale or a savagely intellectua l dominatrix hum ilating
a truly pathetic right-wing male feeder made me laugh my cock om
She splits the difference between Paul ine Reage and Valerie Solanas in
a switch-back ride through the worlds of femini st activism and soulless
chain restaurants where the fa re on offer is as gut-rotting as her male mas-
ochist's sense of entitlement."
Stewart Home

" The 1wJr/d is a11 oyster but you don I crack ii open on a 111at1ress '
Death Of" A Salesman by Arthur Mill er - nor do you crack an egg
.. ' Dining With Humpty Dumpty' is one of the most economical-
ly lush - yet pleasurably imaginative stories - I may have ever read -
so many ideas I've longed to hear - tough in the way only the vulner-
able can be - and honestly vulnerable that only the tough can be - so
beautifu lly and compassionately executed - Reba Maybury is smart
as a whip - sharp eyed yet loving - truly a gi ft in these times of black
and white she is an artist whom work with an astounding pallettc.
Jn other words ' Dini ng With Humpty Dumpty' is fucking brilliant"
Little An nie aka An nie Anxiety aka Annie Bandez

"Reba Maybury's refreshingly finn grasp on the mechanisms of sexuali-

ty, feti sh, politics, and learned behavior al low her to move through sinu-
ous scenarios with impressive agil ity. Jn "Dining with Humpty Dumpty,"
working as a dominatrix becomes anal ogous to working and living as a
woma n: emotional landmines line each of life's parallel paths. be they
participating in capital ism, standing up for one 's bcl iefs, falling in love, or
proving oneself. Humpty Dumpty (the character, based on a real person)
is the perfect representation of meaningless greed, a short-sighted sub-
missive obsessed with becoming egg-shaped. I le is sitting on a wall, in-
explicably hoping to crack. But he, and all men in this world, arc clueless,
it seems, that the strong women who excite them could easily topple, too.
With delicious articulat ion, Maybury explains that the hard she ll she must
establish in order to withstand an outrageous ly insensitive world is made
fragile by its own prox imity to her equally soft insides."
Natasha Stagg