A fairytale affair.

First published 2006.

Oh summer, here we are again. Exams loom around the corner and procrastination is rife. Whilst summer should be a time of frolic, merriment and sex, the evil powers that subject us to the doom and gloom that is the E-word. I’ve decided I’m replacing that word with “fanny”. It seems to be taking off. “What are you up to, Nush?” “Oh, I’m just preparing to take my final fanny of the year.” Small things, small things.

Speaking of small things, fannies and sex, I am rather disgusted that John Prescott dared to not only attempt to procreate with his wife, but with two other women. During my research for this column, I also unwittingly found out that he was a member of the National Union of Seamen. Thanks to my sick mind, I’m already having frequent nightmares and now I have to think about his love-juice being spurted on his many women. I am absolutely perplexed how any woman could find that a turn-on.

You see, his “tearful” mistress claims that she was not attracted to the power. That would have been my first guess, but whatever, I’m sure his dashing good looks, charming personality, non-greasiness and amazing honesty came into the attraction factor somewhere. I wish people would just own up to their power fetishes. Why tiptoe around it and try and make us believe that politicians are sexual animals just waiting for a good rogering? Or worse, people who have a personality. Politicians only ever have sex because they’re in power. It’s fact. Bill Clinton, John Major, Robin Cook, Jeffrey Archer, were all old, greasy, ugly men with one common trait: their power.

Power seems to be the key, yet all these women claim that they weren’t drawn to the power or hungry for male attention. So what is it then?

Well luckily, with the hours of procrastination available to me, I have been scientifically investigating Prescott’s “fit factor”. My extremely thorough analysis centred on observing Prescott’s picture from as many possible angles as Google could deliver. I’ve come to the conclusion that he looks like a frog. An evil frog.

And then it hit me. He’s at the top of the evolutionary ladder; he has mastered the art of luring in potential mates. You see, his genetics enable him to resemble the famous kissable frog which so many ladies desperately want to turn into a prince. With the added evil factor, this man is a woman’s heaven! A naughty prince that she can spend an entire lifetime trying to tame. This man is God and should be worshipped.

He should be worshipped and made holy. So holy that he becomes asexual.

And then, I can sleep again.