Extract A was from "The First Casualty" by Ben Elton
"Ooh-la-la!' she breathed as he smelled the clean aroma of her short bobbed hair and the rain-sodden grass around it.
'Oooh-la jolly well-la!' And so they made love together in the pouring rain, with Nurse Murray emitting a stream of girlish exclamations which seemed to indicate that she was enjoying herself. 'Gosh', 'Golly' and, as things moved towards a conclusion, even 'Tally ho!'
When it was over she pushed him off, stood up and lit a cigarette. It was still too dark to see anything but the glow of the burning tip, and by the way that was moving about Kingsley sensed that she was buttoning herself up.
'Jolly nice,' she said, 'most invigorating.'He started off fairly promisingly as a comedy writer in the 80's for programmes such as The Young Ones and Blackadder and was a successful "alternative" stand-up with a fondness for Thatcher jokes. But his brand of humour left with the 80's and Mrs Thatcher and he now alternates between writing laughable novels and dodgy West End musicals.
Journalist, Toby Young summed him up with the following quote: "Ben Elton. Do you know this guy? He started out as an "alternative" comedian, railing against Thatcherism and the like, and now earns a fortune writing the librettos for truly awful West End musicals. I mean, his name has become a byword for shameless hackery. He's the biggest sell-out of his generation"
Extract J was from "Mr MacGregor" by Alan Titchmarsh
She planted moist, hot kisses all over his body. Beads of sweat began to appear on Guy's forehead as he became more entangled in the lissome limbs of this human boa constrictor. For fully 15 minutes their mutual passion heightened, with groans, sighs and liquid noises.
Grannies favourite, Mr Titchmarsh is best known for being a TV gardener, which somewhat shows in his writing and goes towards explaining "planted moist", "entangled in the lissome limbs" and "liquid noises" ... you can almost smell and hear the wellies and mud.
Wikipedia tells me that the man who puts the "Tit" in Titchmarsh actually won an award for worst sex scene in a book with the above excerpt.
I don't think anybody's going to be wildly surprised by that.
Extract H was from "The Stone Gods" by Jeanette Winterson
We made love by our fire, watching the snow shape the entrance to the cave. When I touch her, my fingers don't question what she is. My body knows who she is. The strange thing about strangers is that they are unknown and known.
There is a pattern to her, a shape I understand, a private geometry that numbers mine. She is a maze where I got lost years ago, and now find the way out. She is the missing map. She is the place that I am. She is a stranger. She is the strange that I am beginning to love.Oh dear, Ms Winterson, probably best known for her novel "Oranges are not the only fruit" lets the ladies side down with this dreary, lacklustre and passionless excerpt. But at least there are no dubious liquid noises or jolly Tally Ho'ing going on, which is always a literary bonus in my opinion.
Two people got it spot on, Fancy Schmancy and PrincessImp ... so very well done to them! I'm not sure it answers the big question of whether men write better sex scenes than woman, but it does suggest that women are better at spotting a man's cackhanded attempt at describing carnal passion.
Still vaguely on the subject of the battle of the sexes, I was trawling the good old internet for some post inspiration when I came across the following vintage advertisements. Now I wouldn't call myself a feminist, I'm all for equality but there's zero danger of me burning my bra any time soon (being nearly 30 and gravity make that a BIG no, no) ... but these ads were frankly a bit shocking! And it has to be admitted, rather amusing. So of course I thought of my beloved readers straight away, "This will be right up their twisted little alleys" I chuckled fondly to myself ... so here we are. (Unfortunately I've had to squidge the pics right down in size to fit them on the page ... click on them to see the captions)
So first up, no messing around or worrying about anything as silly as delicate, female sensibilities ... Men are better than women!
Yes, apparently not only did our male ancestors like to spend their spare time casually chatting at the top of a mountain, they liked to do it whilst dressed in traditional Tyrolean garb and nonchalantly dangling some poor female from a hanging thread of their rapidly unravelling Drummond climbing sweater.
Women, the ad informs us, are all very well INDOORS, pleasant even! But a bit of a drag on a mountain.
This classic little gem tells us that failed marriages were not, as we once suspected, due to a husband's ambitious preoccupation with his career, his golf clubs or his nubile young secretary, but rather because wives were not paying due care and attention to their "dainty feminine allure".
Never fear though ... help was at hand, thanks to those ever-fragrant, marriage savers at Lysol. Their douches insured feminine daintiness "even in the presence of mucous matter" and promised to protect marriages with "no greasy after effect"
*Editor's note: You will lose kudos points if you use the phrase "something fishy" in your comments
Ladies in the 60's liked their men to blow in their faces ... I guess some things never go out of fashion ..
This one actually made me gasp out loud (GOL?) ... if you can't see the original text, it says:
"Though she was a tiger lady, our hero didn't have to fire a shot to floor her. After one look at his Mr Leggs slacks, she was ready to have him walk all over her. That noble styling sure soothes the savage heart! If you'd like your own doll-to-doll carpeting, hunt up a pair of these he-man Mr Leggs slacks"
I'm just surprised the number of mariticide's wasn't sky high in those days ...
Actually, I don't entirely disapprove of this one :P ...
Boy, oh boy, oh boy ...
Haha ... look at her grinning through gritted teeth, she's just dying to smush his face in that blender ...
I wonder what those women think when they look back at these ads? ... If they're not all dead from lung cancer after having all those men blowing in their faces, of course ...
Sheesh ... talk about a wish list! Although I must admit to crying every time I try to use my mum's electric can opener and have to stand there in helpless frustration as the tin whirls round and round with no apparent sign of ever opening.
I've never understood the really militant feminists types, but I'm guessing it was this kind of thing that got them all boiling mad. Maybe they'd had enough of being dangled precariously off of mountains and trying to maintain that crucial feminine daintiness, they didn't want to be walked over by men in crisp, natty Mr Legg slacks or made to wear ridiculous chef's hats whilst lovingly blending their husband's dinners. Maybe they had a point. Attitudes needed to change and I'm glad they have.
But I'm still not going to burn my bra.
