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ME AND LYNDSAY LOHAN? I WISH!

I don't know how it started, but I guess it would be fair to say that my life has been totally overtaken by my obsession with the thought of having a hot coffee thrown in my face by a star of some sort.




Whether it's Matt Damon angrily flinging a latte on a New York street, or a casual flick of cappuccino from Joan Collins in Knightsbridge, even an underarm toss of cold black coffee from Paul "Crocodile Dundee" Hogan, the truth is I'm totally driven in my pursuit of this ultimate goal. I think the roots of my obsession lie in my early childhood, when staying up slightly later than usual, I saw an episode of the brilliant comedy The Bounder, where Peter Bowles casually threw a coffee in a rival's face.

The scene was certainly not malicious; sadistic violence doesn't fit well with Bowles' caddish candour, it was more playful than anything. One thing's for certain: as I quickly feigned a yawn and insisted I had to go to bed, I was so aroused that I came for the first time in my young life.




I didn't think too much of it at first, but I guess that strange psycho-sexual experience had marked my life for ever, changing me. As teenage girlfriends came and quickly went, despite my boyish good looks, it was clear that something was lacking from any intimate emotional encounter, some force that was pulling me back from ever truly emotionally connecting with anyone. It gradually made me more and more miserable, until by the time I was 20 I was seriously considering joining either the army or the priesthood (or maybe even both, as an army pastor).



SWEET LADY JAVA

Not knowing what else to do, I slowly started to unleash the dark beasts that had been chained up in my subconscious for nearly 10 years. As time went on, it just got worse and worse. I'd brew up mugs of instant coffee and wait 15-20 minutes for them to cool down sufficiently before throwing them onto myself, while thinking about stars like Dale Winton and Michael Barrymore (imagining they were the ones throwing the coffee at me) and quickly bringing myself to climax.

I'd become aroused in the coffee section of Sainsburys and I even attempted to have sex with a pot of Nescafe, but the lack of both throwing and celebrities rendered the experience inevitably disappointing.

I once had to be removed from the Guildford branch of Costa, for becoming visibly aroused and agitated when I witnessed a man I (mistakenly) believed to be reality TV star Jeff Brazier tripping with a full mug of hot latte and spilling some on a baby's face.

In 2003, I set up a website, Cappuci-Yes! (think about it), to share my love of celebrity coffee flinging. It was slow at first, with only three people accessing the site in the first 12 months, but over time the cult grew and now I've got fans from as far afield as Montreal, Canada and Hamburg, Germany.


THE TEMPTRESS

I didn't realise how many of us "flingees" as we call ourselves, (or "caffiends") there are out there - everyone bringing something different to the table. I spoke to a woman in Tampa, Florida who was obsessed with the thought of actor Matt Dillon angrily hurling a Starbucks caramel macchiatto across her face, while my good friend Gustav from Salzburg wants Ricardo Montalban to arrogantly pour a frappuccino on his loafers.




As we grew in numbers and confidence, the group started to wonder if the thing we had always thought an impossible dream might in fact be within our grasp - could we actually find a celebrity willing to throw a coffee in our faces? Calling in a few favours, we rang around some agents to see who might do it - and at first it seemed that the results were positive (a bit like in an AIDS test). Names like Linda Barker, Dean Gaffney, Rowland Rivron, Lisa Scott Lee and Anthony Costa from Blue (his coffee-related surname adding an extra dimension of arousal for all concerned, i.e me) were all willing to do it.



However, in terms of names that we as a group deemed real celebrities - stars where you'd feel proud to be on the business end of a face full of hot java, the feedback was much more gloomy: only Ardal O Hanlon and Nick Knowles said they would, and in all honesty Knowles had a list of caveats as long as your arm!

The thing is, call me pretentious, but when I dream about having a celebrity chuck a caffeinated wake up call into my face, I ain't thinking about Paul Danan or that little Chinese fella with the stupid haircut from the Halifax ads; I'm imagining superstars like George Clooney or Shirley Bassey doing the dirty work!

But I still live in hope that one day I might meet one of my ultimate idols, men like Christian Slater or Martine McCutcheon, and that naturally, without even asking, some kind of magical guiding force from above, a spectral presence, will control events to ensure the celebrity ends up emptying the contents of their carry-out coffee into my startled but aroused and anticipatory face at great velocity!