Cold hard poo.

I found an advert in the newspaper yesterday.

It basically said that a Necrophelia Society club was wishing to recruit a new Special Events Coordinator. Obviously, not being qualified to be any kind of coordinator and not wishing to apply myself to such a commitment, I didn’t repond to the advertisement. I did however decide to contact them and enquire after their next meeting. The person I got in contact with initially was in fact working for the recruitment agency who had organised the advert but they soon gave me the phone number of the club’s most senior member who seemed excited at the prospect of a new member joining. After a short chat and a nonchalant run down of the chronologically ordered reasons for my interest in Necrophelia, I was on the way to becoming a member of their society.

Wednesday came and by 7pm I was in front of the church hall waiting for everyone else to turn up for the show. The first member to arrive was, well I’ll call him Fred for possible legal reasons, Fred, wearing a black hoodie, black corduroy trousers and some (Guess, guess, guess, guess.) black New Rocks. Having expected a dark atmos, i was wearing my ‘devils’ hoodie, some black jeans, a Nirvana ‘Bleach’ t-shirt and some navy Docs. I still didn’t feel like I was fitting in however, having been away from the depths of Korn since the age of 16 and an avid fan of Radiohead for quite some time I felt musically vanilla next to his graphic Cannibal Corpse ‘Kill’ t-shirt.

Minor differences asside, me and Fred obviously live in around the same area (although an elderly couple did turn up around 15 minutes later, from Warrington, outside of Manchester). He also seemed to have seemingly carbon-coded interests in gaming (it doesn’t take a genius to see the greatness of the all-powerfull shigeru miyamoto) and a similar university degree going on but I’ll not go into all that.
This may seem a little late on but I’d just like to stress I’m not actually interested or affiliated with any of the society’s members or interests. I was mearly so utterly intrigued by the idea of a club openly dealing with such a concept looked down on by the rest of society I had to go to one of their meetings to find out for myself how they would act in a comfortable environment surrounded by like-minded people.
Back to the meeting.
After Fred, the senior member I had spoke with earlier on the phone arrived and, after apologising to Fred and me for his lateness and welcoming me to my first night, let us in to the church hall.
Inside was like any other brown and cream colourd wood-covered church hall. ugly and uncomfortable looking orange moulded plastic chairs had been set out in a circle and for reasons unknown, one of the member was already inside. I’d assumed he’d had a key and at one point asked why he hadn’t let us in before but he seemed to only speak bad French and never seemed to be part of the night’s events or be of particular help to anyone. I can only assume now that he was possibly a homeless person that had broken in regularly.

The first event of the night involved everyone introducing themselves. As this blog is quite long already I’ll not go into too much detail. Suffice to say, there was me, Fred, phone-man, elderly mancunian couple, three embarassed students and an elderly fragile old man. One thing I will note now, before getting into the meat of the night’s activities, is the tallest of the students, similarly dressed to Fred, had all sorts of body cavities filled with hollow plastic rods and metal objects of all shapes and sizes. He even had a forked tongue which he showed me he could seperate and plow one side with the other to the amusement of the room. His was probably the most entertaining introduction but thank god phone-man convinced him not to show us his meatotomy. By now, he should be all the way down to a subincision but I’ll not go into the details of what I’ve just said. If you really want to you can try the internet for some info and probably find some interesting people along the way.

Second event, bring in the bag.
This is where we really got down to what we were here for but we had to talk about it theoretically before putting it into practice. That’s where Annie came in to play. A plastic resuscitation doll I was familiar with from my days as a training lifeguard. Here, at a point where we had got to know each other enough to start to bond with ourselves as necro’s (the groups kitschy name they’d decided to call themselves), the group discussed their preferences, using the doll as a reference and sometimes physical partner, in the case of the mancunian couple.

After this ‘hilarious’ and surprisingly lively section of the night, phone-man toted in ‘the bag’ as it had been referred to throughout the night to everyones praise and awe. The bag, from the way it stretched and deformed under it’s contents seemed to hold something that weighed more than you’d expect for it’s size. Hmm it’s gettin late I’ll finish this blog tomorrow.

I’ll get to tell you the bit where one of the students shot a rifle into the bag until it stopped it’s sudden wriggling and everyone’s agreement afterwards that it was now ’sexy’.

See you there.