I’M A JOKE AT CHATTING UP WOMEN

MY WIFE is a sexologist – a rather limiting subject, I think. How can you study something that lasts only seven seconds?

I have always had a problem with sex. Not the sex itself so much – more the beginning bit.

I was never any good at chatting up women. I don’t know if I was lousy at it and saying the wrong things, or being too funny or silly, but I could never read the signs.

I didn’t know when it was working. When a woman was on my case, I didn’t see it. I couldn’t get the message.

My friends used to tell me: ‘She’s MAD for you!’

‘Who?’ ‘That one over there!’ ‘What one??’

Being a funny guy always got in my way. Women would laugh and laugh all night, and I wouldn’t know how to make the quantum leap from ‘ha-ha-ha’ to getting into bed.

They would say: ‘Oh, you are so funny! You are my best friend!’

I’d be thinking: ‘I don’t want to be your friend! I’ve got plenty of friends! And I don’t want you to be my friend either. I want a fire-breathing hootchy-cootchy dancer!’

Sex is a very, very important thing.

My own sexual demands are extremely simple: I like the missionary position – standing in a cook pot wearing a safari suit, looking towards Africa. Is that too much to ask?