Sex with animals is eternally fascinating. Negligence our brain that registers disgust also seems to store our primal instincts, sufficient reason for bestiality, there’s always the intoxicating fear that in the bottom of the revulsion is our personal sexual interest. We’ve internalised enough Freud to find out, or think we understand, that what we repress is the thing that we want. Though the fascination is also aesthetic and intellectual – bestiality is indeed unnatural that we can not help but admire its artistic duality.
There’s enough happening in western art – from the escapades of Zeus to some Midsummer Nights Dream to Beauty and the Beast to Edward Albee’s 2002 take part in the Goat. It is a staple dream about our civilisation. And Woody Allen’s movie Anything you Always aspired to Know About Sex proves that sex with sheep is fundamentally funny. But what about those individuals to whom it is not a poetic culmination or possibly a comic set-piece, but a real sexual drive? How do they cope with society’s disgust, and just how can they actually ‘do it’?
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