Tuesday, 22 December 2015

Confessions of a Christian Sex Blogger

The telltale crashes and bangs of my grandparents' old car heralded their approach as I sat waiting for them. It had never been easy, getting to sleep on Christmas Eve - particularly not for those first sixteen years - but when the concept of going to Mass at midnight came up, I was intrigued. I'd never been to church at night before and had - with a few small exceptions in my younger years - never really taken part in worship of Jesus on Christmas Day (singing Happy Birthday to him doesn't really count). And it would eat up some time. I was keen to go.

That is, until I noticed (while channel-hopping) that Confessions of a Window Cleaner was on Bravo and suddenly felt that what I really needed to celebrate the birth of Christ was some 1970s smut. I also knew, from previous viewings of the Confessions films, that a sex scene was coming up and that I absolutely needed to watch it. I couldn't go to Mass.

My grandparents, having been given a Bowdlerised version of this story which involved me being tired or somesuch, left for the church looking somewhat disappointed. I turned the TV back over to Bravo whereupon I realised that the sex scene I had needed wanted to watch - the first one with Robin Askwith in it which invovles a lot of soapsuds and a bored housewife - had finished. There were more, of course, but I suddenly felt as if I'd missed two things - Mass and sex with Robin Askwith - and even more, when my Mum came in to tell me that I'd have to go to bed if I didn't want to go to Mass, since it was nearly midnight and I didn't need to be staying up all night watching (what she believed to be) music videos on The Box.

I rocked up at church with about thirty seconds to go and threw myself into a seat with my assorted gaggle of family members who make up half the congregation, and then assured my grandparents that I'd decided to come after all; I wasn't feeling tired at all and suddenly perked up at the chance to sit in semi-darkness and sing carols to candlelight; nothing else could please me more.

And, in many ways, that's just right.

Anyway, they were showing Russ Meyer's films the following week.

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