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A disorderly and miscalculated life.


MY, HOW the talking heads like a rumpus.

Stephen Fry has apparently claimed that women do not like sex (the exemplar being that you never see women cruising for casual encounters on a winter's evening on Hampstead Heath).

Stephen has cried foul and one can choose to believe or not that the dear old goose was taken out of context.

However, one would have to believe him to be a prize donkey to make a public assertion of such.

I have read for the defence, the tad snippy, and the obloquy.

And when I grew tired of reading about it, I could listen about it on various radio programmes.

There were those who agreed and those who disagreed; the charge has certainly stirred up a lot of emotion.

By the Lord Harry, I thought, I'm glad that's not me under the spotlight being talked about, written about, getting that publicity.

However, Stephen Fry has no need of the annoyance.

His career is established; one imagines that he must enjoy a great deal of freedom to explore whatever might take his fancy and, frankly, good luck and well done.

Even if guilty of this monstrous slur on all womankind I am not going to burn my old copy of The Hippopotamus.

Mistakes can be made, a foot can be put in a mouth, etcetera; for me it would be hard work indeed if one had to weigh the consequence of every syllable each time one opened one's mouth.

I might venture to say, at the risk of being accused of misandry, that it's possible that it might not necessarily be that women do not like sex, but that they might not be as bedevilled by it as most men.

And really why would women - even feminists - want to embrace the idea of their ability to have unemotional, uncommitted sex behind a bush or in a public toilet? Perhaps he was being deliberately contentious just to get attention... how slippery would that be? But to think of it... all that attention... However, have you ever noticed the dearth of women standing outside those bacon butty vans parked up in lay-bys? As one motors about the country it is quite common to witness the sight of several potbellied men standing in the rain chewing on a large white bread bacon butty, with not a care in the world for cholesterol... but I have yet to see one woman.

Likewise pie eating. When was the last time you saw a woman, pie in hand, watching the world go by? Call me a chauvinist pig, and I know it might well raise feminist eyebrows but I cannot help but think that women are unenthusiastic about bacon butties, and see pies only as the price they are willing to pay for a relationship.

Most men fear that they disgust women and find it difficult to believe that women are as interested in such viands as they are.
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Title Annotation:Features
Publication:Wales On Sunday (Cardiff, Wales)
Date:Nov 14, 2010
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