Many perverteers, when in-between dalliances, are apt to ponder the great philosophical quandaries of perversion. And why not, providing you are not impeding, say, an assistant librarian from achieving closure?
One of the great imponderables of both practical and theoretical perversion is the question about whether perversion itself is an art or a science.
There are those who would point to the aesthetic considerations necessary when, say, disporting a brace of dairymaids next to an apricot crumble and say that proves that perversion is an art. However, there are those who would say the correct way to approach, for example, an assistant librarian whilst wearing shin-pads and holding the watermelon the putative perverteer must consider several variables. Such as the angle of attack, the wind direction and how long it is until either:
a./ closing time,
b./ when the footie is on the telly.
Which is as much of a science as it is an art.
However, there is fascinating work underway in theoretical and applied perversion in the laboratories at the University of Little Frigging (formerly the cowshed at Trouser-Quandary smallholding). Here, our research into both the Rude and the Naughty particles essential for any perverse reaction to take place is undoubtedly a science. Obviously, it is one that places a lot of stress on the elbows, as well as using a large quantity of fresh strawberries, which many will also regard as an art.
It is my contention, therefore that the perverse arts and sciences are both arts and sciences. Yet they are also not arts and sciences. This because there is something in the perverse act, even if it only involves a clerical gentleman, a campanologist and a bunch of spring onions, that goes beyond the limits of both arts and sciences. Venturing into some other realm we are only now beginning to grasp the wot of.
I'm sure that, in the near future, we will return to discuss more of this fascinating subject as and when I can be arsed.