Bumbooziana is one of Donald Friend’s most unusual books, presented as ‘the recently discovered notes and documents’ of a fictitious Natural and Instinctive Bestiality Research Expedition. Written and illustrated by Friend, it adopts the form of a Victorian scientific report, complete with elaborate title pages, handwritten commentary and watercolour illustrations that blur the boundaries between travel journal, parody and fantasy.

The expedition’s investigations range across the sexual habits of animals and people, but the book is neither a scientific investigation nor straightforward erotic literature. Friend uses the language and conventions of nineteenth-century exploration, anthropology and moral instruction to satirise the pretensions of scholarship and the authority of the supposedly objective observer. Absurd observations, invented case studies, mock-serious conclusions and increasingly outrageous encounters accumulate into an elaborate joke, while the narrator maintains an almost unshakeable tone of scholarly detachment.

The illustrations are central to the deception. Anthropomorphic animals, theatrical figures, imagined encounters and grotesque caricatures all appear with the same calm authority. Friend presents the most improbable subjects with the detached eye of an illustrator supposedly recording genuine field observations, reinforcing the parody by treating fantasy as though it were empirical evidence.

Produced by Gryphon Books in a small edition of just 150 copies, Bumbooziana was intended for collectors rather than a commercial audience. The result is an eccentric combination of illustrated book, expedition parody, sexual fantasy and literary joke, in which Friend's skills as writer, draughtsman and book designer are inseparable.

Here is a sample of the Bumbooziana text:

I was obliged to take notice of my learned colleague’s oddity at last when, during luncheon on the shore of a placid lagoon – an extremely good meal, I might add, consisting of fresh fish from the lake, a salad of spinach leaves, lotus roots and olives with some home-made cheese and local fruits to follow. Dr Tarkington Newbold abruptly left the table in a huff, muttering something to the effect of ‘inedible garbage, why can’t they give us proper food like fried pork and grits with Boston beans ...’
     I took little notice when I heard his voice rising outside the tent, scolding Bobo (who was about to enter with the coffee), with the words ‘The service here leaves a lot to be desired’. We heard Bobo’s somewhat pert reply, ‘If masta desire something Bobo try to oblige.’ ‘If that’s the case,’ cried the libertine doctor, ‘I’d rather have lunch kneeling down!’
     Having my back to the scene, I did not see what was happening. The others kept their eyes on their plates, except Herr Doktor Pfeiffberg, our official photographer, who leapt out with his camera and photographed the incident. There stood Bobo, both hands and all his attention concentrated on keeping the tray from falling, whilst, kneeling, Doctor Tarkington … No, I cannot continue, lest the photographic evidence supply the hiatus.
     Oddly enough, the following night I happened to be strolling in the vicinity of our camp, where the servants and porters slept, huddled naked on the earth around the embers of a fire. My heart melted in compassion to see Bobo there among them, deep in slumber, without any covering, his black satin skin defenceless against the swarm of bloodthirsty insects and the small poisonous needles of mosquitoes. Out of pity awoke him and led him back to join me in the mosquito-proof comfort of my couch. It appeared that he had suffered nothing traumatic in his ‘confrontation’ with Dr Tarkington Newbold. His main concern had been not to upset the coffee pot.
     This being the case, I suffered no qualms of conscience then by initiating a night of vigorous sexual activity. However, aside from prefatory play, fellatio had but a minor part in our amusements. Rather, the main theme was a turn and turn-about exercise.