‘Filthy’ is ‘dirty’ with eighteen-lacer DM boots, rats depending from ear-lobes and attitude you could start a war with. It carries on where shy little ‘dirty’ finishes and slinks, embarrassed and shamed, into the woodwork.
Dirty is amenable to hoover and duster and a little light elbow grease. Filthy requires industrial cleaning equipment – or a Surface to Air Missile, depending upon the depth of accretions and level of Porton Down type biological/chemical weapons which follow in extreme filth‘s wake.
Filthy is Fungus the Bogeyman, Drear! It is wonderfully awful, my Darkling!
Dirty, according to the Sin-Fanatics amongst us, is Vanilla Sex.
Filthy is the whole world of kinkiness and degradation and Sado-Masochistic acts involving cucumbers, whips, dungeons (and, in all probability, dragons), Nazi insignia, porcupines (for the Filth Addict who is beyond the Pale), chains and an entire set of medical/veterinary implements.
‘Filthy dirty’ – as hissed out by prim Chapel-goers – is filth so heinous that even the most stubborn of hoarders, even the Marquis de Sade, would have baulked at its vile implications.
Filthy-dirty is bodily wastes extruded in open air; it is necrophilia and bestiality and bed bugs a foot long. It is carpets which undulate with life, and bite the unwary. It is privies which cause light-headedness and, ultimately, brain damage; it is placentas left, wrapped inadequately in newspaper, in the wire incinerator tray after a home birth; it is wiping one’s arse on a goose/sibling/passing cleric.
Filthy, my little pockets of purulent pus (as Fungus would, no doubt, croon lovingly to Mildew during those moments of bogeyperson passion), is all those acts and states which are so utterly disgusting and taboo in civilised society that a spree of serial killing is a mere scattering of crumbs on the table in comparison.
Filthy is – compelling! Programmes on the television dealing with its human manifestations are avidly watched. We are fascinated by filth! We love to hate it. We condemn it – and yet we peer from behind lacy net curtains in order to watch it more closely.
When I grow up, I want to BE that unashamedly filthy character, Fungus the Bogeyman! Imagine the relief of living like a pig wallowing in shit and being allowed to enjoy it; being, indeed, ostracised for cleanliness and chided for slipping into mere dirtiness!
Now: Pass the manure bucket, and stand clear!