Pre-Rocky, pre-fame, post-desperation: it’s The Party At Kitty & Stud’s and it’s quite a thing. Warning: This is totally NSFW.
The Party At Kitty & Stud's / Italian Stallion Productions
They are our National Service, the character-building shitheap of experiences you would, in hindsight, not do without. We've flipped burgers in dive restaurants, washed warm faeces off pub toilet walls, been the tethered goat barmaid in an S&M club for over-50s; we've babysat. Some of us have written ad copy for nasal sprays.
You have grit now. You've been through some stuff. You're Paul Newman in The Colour of Money, you're Rambo. Those hours you spent by a whirring silver dishwasher in the basement of a restaurant later shut down for rat infestation count for something.
The Party at Kitty & Stud's / Italian Stallion Productions
So given the desperate track record undoubtedly outlined in the early part of your CV: how much money, then, would it have taken you to do a soft-core porn film? Think about it. What's the absolute minimum you would have accepted? Imagine this offer comes to you when you've got a soapy bucket of diluted diarrhoea looped over a Marigold that, if you're honest, definitely has a hole in it. Is it £100,000? £12,000? Lower? The absolute lowest you would accept.
Is it… two hundred bucks?
