..ANYONE who knows me would tell you I am something of a ladies man. I have made love to hundreds of beautiful and often famous women. The fact that none of them knows about it, or were physically present at the time, is neither here nor there.
..I am constantly being asked for advice on the techniques of seduction. Well, I am occasionally asked if I can set someone up with my sister, to which my answer is, probably not, but for a consideration I can steal you her underwear.
..Actually, I suppose I don't know much about women beyond the fact that they look pretty and wear dresses and sometimes bake cakes. It is also true that I have not had a girlfriend in any conventional sense (i.e. without an air-valve) since that tempestuous five minutes in the sandpit with Blodwen Jones, the Celtic spitfire of Infant One. Nevertheless, I like to think of myself as a student of human nature, a term I prefer to couch potato or loafer, and I see no reason why I should not try my hand at a guide to seduction, and endeavour to get to the bottom of what Dr. Ruth Westheimer has called 'This damnable business of sex,' once and for all.


..The first step in being seductive is to be what women want you to be.
..A survey of half a dozen women I just asked reveals that they are looking for the following qualities in a man:

..Obviously, it would be impossible for a man to embody all these traits at once. Equally clearly, just possessing one of them isn't enough. Matching socks alone, for example, won't make it. (However they do seem to be important. Several of the girls I spoke to were at pains to emphasize this point and perhaps it is where I have been going wrong in the past.) A broad specialization is the key. Analyzing the above requirements, I find they fall into five main categories:

..Favourite would be to embody all five of these, but just being one or two of them might be enough if you use aftershave as well. Let us examine each in turn and see how we as men or lesbians can aspire to that condition.


..If you feel that you are not very handsome, remember it is a well-known fact that beauty comes from within. 'Handsome is as handsome does,' as my Gran points out, 'but a huge cock is a joy forever.' If you believe you are handsome then you will be, providing, of course, you can get other people to believe it too. Try and impress it on them by suggestion. Whenever you meet women at social gatherings, or indeed any other situation, funerals, job interviews, etc., say something like, "My name is Neil Armstrong (or whatever your name happens to be). I am very handsome, you know." Say it over and over, about being handsome, that is, not about being Neil Armstrong, unless you are. Try saying it in a low hypnotic murmur with a roguish smile. Twiddle your moustache if you have one, although not your top lip if you don't. (Speaking of hypnosis, that may be a way to go. I must get a book out.) Telling women you are handsome may work better when there are no other people around to compare you with, so try to do it in situations where you are isolated together, lifts, phone boxes, deserted multi-storey car parks, when trapped together in deep caverns on potholing expeditions, etc. Oh, and you can say you're Neil Armstrong if you want. I bet he gets plenty.
..The fact is that everyone has some points of beauty. It is up to you to emphasize and draw attention to your particular best features. If you have a handsome nose, caress the end of it a lot or stroke your top lip in such a way as to point to it. If your knees are a thing of beauty, wear short pants and lie around on chaise-longues drumming your fingers on them smiling knowingly. If you have a well-shaped skull, shave your head, plane it with a sander and polish it to a high sheen. And so on for other parts of the body. You can work the rest out for yourselves, for Christ's sake.
..And hide your defects. Pulled-up scarves and pulled-down hats may be useful in this regard, or bits of gauze and masking tape for the really bad bits. Swathe your entire head in bandages if you really feel uncomfortable with your looks. Women love mystery.


..Smell flowers a lot. Cry when you see tramps or ugly buildings. Cry when you hurt yourself. Don't do spastic impressions or light your farts when you've had a few. If the girl you fancy seems subdued or moody, ask her in a sensitive voice if she's on her period. If she is, get the attention of everyone else you're with, tell them the problem and ask them to talk quietly and be gentle towards her. Be very sympathetic and attentive, and perhaps even pretend to have sympathetic cramps yourself.
..Recite poetry. Wear a big pink blouse and skip around. None of it will do you a blind bit of good. What will probably happen is that you'll become friends with her and have to listen to her telling you how the ape-man she was with last night fucked her five times without even putting his pint down.
..It is a well-established fact I just thought of that women prefer big horrible yobs, bully boys with quiffs and leather jackets, to sensitive nice types like me. At least, I think that must be the reason I never get any, leaving aside the sock thing. Consider: who scores more often, Saddam Hussein or the Dalai Lama? The Dalai Lama gets some about once a year if he's lucky, usually on his birthday when his mates have set up with a really easy shag.
..In fact, it is a truism that women will only credit as being sensitive men who aren't sensitive at all. Genghis Khan, for example, was probably described as being 'overemotional and misunderstood' by some silly cow or other. Stalin's girlfriend described him as being 'just like a bunny rabbit underneath it all.' Pol Pot's bird said he was 'all mixed up and confused and hurting inside, like James Dean.' And a man worse than all of these put together, Jason Bulstrode, an overglanded rugby-playing baboon who pulled the head off my Sindy doll in Junior Two, won the hand in marriage of Mandy Frodsham, the sweetest most angelic girl in the world, after I had spent six months sensitively discussing Sylvia Plath with her with not so much as a sniff of tit to show for it.
..The story has a happy ending, though, because just recently Jason was in a car crash and was paralyzed from the neck down, and now Mandy must raise his four fat, semi-mongoloid children on her own. Won't make that mistake again, eh, Mandy? Who's sorry now, eh? Eh?
..But I digress.


..The problem with doing wild and dangerous things such as, say, driving your car fast, is that you might end up like Jason Bulstrode, ha ha ha ha ha. However, having an air of wildness and danger is largely a matter of appearances.
..A lad I was at university with, Grant Mackerby, gained an enviable reputation as wild man on campus largely by virtue of finding a good coiffeur who made his hair look permanently tousled and windswept. By intensive study of old Douglas Fairbanks Jr films he had also mastered a devil-may-care laugh and buccaneering grin. He was also very loud and distressingly energetic and fidgety. He would come barreling into the student union like a Spitfire pilot returning from a dogfight, slam a motorcycle helmet down on a table with a careless remark about just having nearly had a prang (he owned a two-stroke moped) and then proceed to tell lots of loud and inventive lies about fighting, hitch-hiking and roof-tiling while he roistered and quaffed (somehow one always thought of words like that in connection with him). At parties he would ostentatiously swallow huge fistfuls of pills, all vitamin tablets and similar harmless compounds. This managed to impress a surprising number of dimwitted but presentable females, all despite the fact that in reality he was such a neurotically cautious wretch he had made me scrub the house wok out three times after I vomited into it. So one night at a party some of us switched his fake drugs for Ecstasy and laxatives, and he wound up ecstatically dancing in a pile of his own poo, and that was the end of him.
..But there is much we can learn from old Granty.


..If you are not in fact rich there is not much you can do to pretend. Unless...perhaps if you told a girl that you wanted to take her on a date to a mystery location, and asked her to wear a blindfold...and if you could then somehow arrange for the blindfold to become accidentally stuck to her head, with superglue or a well-placed tack or something, so she was forced to wear it all night...then, perhaps, with the help of a few sound effects, you could make her believe you were taking her on a jet to a sumptuous party at the Eiffel Tower or something, when in fact she would just be in your bedroom...And if you could then pretend that terrorists had hijacked the function and were forcing all the guests to take their clothes off and have sex with each other... and if the girl was a trusting sort who had been kicked in the head by livestock at a formative age...And if you could make sure your Mum didn't come in with a cup of tea...Hmm. Well, it needs working on, and taking advantage of the mentally impaired deserves a monograph to itself.
..Bear in mind, though, that there's a certain type of rich girl who's turned on by uncouth and impecunious working-class men. I'm not sure how you would go about meeting them. Perhaps if you hung around Roedean School or Sloane Square scratching yourself and going, "Ooh, fuck I'm skint, the arse is hanging out of me jeans, Christ I'm a lowlife, anyone fancy a jump?" Or something.


..This one is easy. Judicious use of padding can turn anyone into a hunk. Thick vests and undershirts are important, but don't neglect greengroceries. Oranges make excellent biceps and a well-placed banana or two can dramatically improve the line of your crotch.
..Of course, an alert girl will probably spot the deception if you get her into bed, but by then it'll be too late. I think there's a rule that if you manage to trick a woman into going to bed with you, she's not allowed to change her mind once she sees what you look like without your clothes on. I think the rule is once she's completely lying on the bed with one arm flung back behind her head she's yours and she can't back out, but as long as she keeps one foot on the floor she's barley. So remember, chaps, no undressing until she's got both those feet up.


..If you've tried all of the above and still can't get a woman to go out with you, you might want to try one of the following tricks as a last resort.


..Women often fantasize about seducing a Catholic priest. Well, I had a fantasy about seducing a Nun and being so good at sex and nibbling her ear like a Frenchman and so on that she would say, "You are my God now, Mike." And getting a grip of a priest is probably a woman's equivalent of that.
..Dress up as a priest and go round to a woman's house and say something like, "Can I come in and talk about God? You'd better not try and seduce me, though, what with me being a priest. A woman would have to be really fit to go to hell for. Oh yes, we priests don't put out for just anyone, you know." Then casually hum the Thorn Birds theme and wait for her to rip your clothes off.


The lure of the unattainable combined with their superior dress sense and bodybuilding skills makes gays irresistible to females. John Inman is constantly being raped by women.


Put on a white coat and go round door to door offering to give free gynaecological examinations. Pretend to have forgotten your instruments. Offer to use your willy instead.


You have managed to get a girl to go on a date with you by pretending to be handsome, muscular, etc. What now?

Well, bear in mind that if you take her to dinner or the cinema or something and pay for it, she has to go to bed with you. If you split the bill but you pay for the drinks, you're entitled to a grope at least.

If at the end of the night you drop her off at her place and she invites you in for a coffee, don't whatever you do say, "No, thanks, it'll keep me awake all night." The coffee is unimportant, what she is really inviting you in for is Lurve. But it's bad form to act aware of this. Even if you really don't want a coffee and are confident of your chances, don't say anything like, "I don't want coffee, but I'll come in for sex."
..Once inside, the ritual of making coffee can be used to make subtle innuendo,e.g.:
..SHE: "How do you like it?"
..YOU (knowingly): "I like it lots and lots of cream."
..(It is enough to say this with a knowing twinkle in your eye. Don't go, "Eh? Eh? Know what I mean?", nudge her and wink like Sid James.)
..Coffee preferences can be used to indicate sexual preferences, e.g.:
.."Cappuccino" = Blow-job
.."Brown sugar" = up the Gary Glitter
.."with a wee tot" = paedophilia

If, on the other hand, you wind up at your place at the end of the evening, the rules of propriety must still be observed when inviting her in. In years gone by, the man would ask the woman if she would like to come in to look at his etchings. This is now a laughable cliche, but acceptable substitutes must still be found to give the woman a respectable reason to come in. Etiquette forbids simply saying, "Would you like to come in to look at my nob?" Likewise, you can say, "Would you like to come in to look at my bedroom ceiling?" only if your bedroom ceiling is of genuine historical or architectural significance.



..Once the bird is safely inside, seal the seduction with some sexy music. Barry White, Marvin Gaye, Donna Summer, etc., are recommended. Not recommended are: 'Shaddapaya Face' by Joe Dolce, 'The Trail of the Lonesome Pine' by Laurel and Hardy, and most TV theme tunes, particularly The Bill, Doctor Who, and Captain Scarlet. The 'Thunderbirds' theme tune can occasionally be acceptable while pulling out a wall-bed, performing a strip-tease, or assembling a mechanical sex-toy. Stirring sporting theme tunes such as for motor racing or ski programmes can be used if you can provide really athletic sex to live up to the billing. Strangely, the original 'Grange Hill' theme tune blows knickers off at fifty paces.
..You can employ the 'I'll just slip into something more comfortable' ruse only if what you slip into is genuinely more comfortable. Bondage outfits or studded leather hipster underpants are generally not.


I am no expert at foreplay. I am, however, a master at stroking cats into a state of ecstasy, and a woman shouldn't be too different. If your bird is anything like my cat, the following manouevres are guaranteed to get her really frothed up:


I have been unable to find out anything about this. I was game, but the cat took off in a hurry.


You should put on a condom as soon as you're certain that full sex is going to take place. Not, however, while you're still in the restaurant, in the taxi, etc., or while she's out in the kitchen making coffee.

(September '99)