Sex Box

Have you seen it? Heard of it? It was in the papers at the weekend. It's a new programme on Channel 4 where people "have sex live on TV"  (you don't actually watch them that would be rude, they go into this kind of opaque box thing in the studio - a bit like the tardis but with nipple clamps) and then discuss it afterwards with a panel of experts. It's presented by Mariella Frostrup, or the thinking man's totty as me Dad calls her. So, me Mum's gone to bed, me Dad's channel surfing, and spots that Sex Box is on. So he thinks "well what harm can it do to have a little peek, in the interests of research, like" and up pops Mariella, who sounds to be like she's recovering from a heavy cold and need to get a couple of Lemsip Max Strength's down her neck sharpish if you ask me, but this huskiness is apparently part of her appeal. So Mariella is wrapping up with thanks very much to Martin and Sarah (I can't remember their exact names, give me a fucking break, I'm a Border Terrier not Einstein and it was about 10.45pm so I was half asleep on me cushion wasn't I? Jesus, pick bastard pick you are). Right, where was I, yes, "thanks very much Martin and Sarah, join us again after the break, when we'll have our final couple of the night, onstage rogering like billy-o." She might not have said exactly that, but it was along those lines. So me Dad goes off to get himself another beer from the fridge, and settles back down after the ads have been on thinking this is going to be interesting. "Welcome back," husks Mariella "let's meet our final couple of the night, Taff and Evan (real names with-held for legal reasons) from Glamorgan." A couple of chutney ferrets! Fat Welsh chutney ferrets to be precise. Me Dad nearly choked on his beer. We didn't watch the rest of it, needless to say. Wheeler Dealers was on 273.