Reebok will be appalled at the way this excellent thread is heading? Oh, I guess not! However, one must try to help other members, so here goes for our southern hemisphere friend, Mr. Cyclonic: "Well, you could start with one of the first and most well-known "manuals" (if you like) on this subject. namely, "My Secret Life" by "Walter", an account of his sexual life and experiences in Victorian England. Sort of a "Mrs. Beeton's Cookery Book and Household Guide" on the subject. Only problem is it is in eleven volumes. Most readers, I would imagine, were thoroughly worn-out after finishing two volumes."
Portnoy's Complaint is the way to go. It should be part of every young man's education. Below is an excerpt from the Philip Roth novel where Alex Portnoy confesses his love interest in a piece of raw liver. "Well, where is this right mind on that afternoon I came home from school to find my mother out of the house, and our refrigerator stocked with a big purplish piece of raw liver? I believe that I have already confessed to the piece of liver that I bought in a butcher shop and banged behind a billboard on the way to a bar mitzvah lesson. Well, I wish to make a clean breast of it, Your Holiness. That—she—it—wasn't my first piece. My first piece I had in the privacy of my own home, rolled around my cock in the bathroom at three-thirty-and then had again on the end of a fork, at five thirty, along with the other members of that poor innocent family of mine. "So. Now you know the worst thing I have ever done. I ****ed my own family's dinner."
Puts me in mind of the taxi driver's confession in Night On Earth. The wonderful Roberto Benigni at his very best and well worth 26 minutes of anyone's time to watch
Just watched it, have to agree, an incredible performance from Benigni. The guy who played the priest did the best corpse I've ever seen on a film. Very small parts of the clip were pure Monsieur Hulot, surely? However, not sure what Jacque Tati would have thought of it.
Talking of Jacque Tati, I have to say, in a strange way, that I owe this great French comic actor so much. First few weeks in Calgary, in Canada would be more correct, hardly had a bean to my name, no immediate prospect of getting back into the oil business, spent my last few shekels on going to see "Mon Oncle" at the city's only avant garde cinema. Never seen anything like it before, had me in tears laughing. Jacque made about 4 or maybe 5 films after, never missed one of them. Thanks Jacque, you gave me hope to carry on. R.I.P. Jacque
