being kettled by soldiers onto a tram next to a portly teenage boy. Within moments I could feel his prick rub against my thigh through his sweatpants. I looked at him cruelly, but his bottom lip was quivering as if to say, "I can't help it". I felt sorry for him, as after all, what is adolescence but a series of untimely erections occasionally interrupted by melodrama? 5. My happy tramp. My life seems eternally bound up with frotteurism, so I got in touch with an expert -- Osamu 'Sam' Yamamoto, who runs Frottophilia.com . He has written two works of 'fiction' ( A Frotter's Diary, A Frotter's Diary II ) and a movie ( A Man Who Kept Groping Buttocks: A Frotter's Diary ). From my correspondence with him, he seems like a vain egotist who chooses to describe himself (in the third person) like this: "[Yamamoto] is a living legacy especially among Japanese frottophilia. He met his wife on a train (and groped her). He wrote two books about frottophilia based on his experiences. Then he shot a movie. Though the movie was about the sexual perversion, it was widely and well accepted even among women as pure love story." Sam Yamamoto He gave me these instructions before giving me the worst interview of all time. "I strongly ask you not to use the word 'frotteurism'. It may be the right academic and medical term, but I think that most of your readers will never have heard of