Tuesday, 8 January 2013


Thou Shalt Not...


  1. Church of England General Synod backs women bishops

    2 mins ago - The General Synod of the Church of England votes to allow women to become bishops for first time in its history, after years of debate and ...

We humans get a very raw deal on sex. We are the only large animal to be priapically primed, after puberty, at any moment; engorged at all times with all the mating instincts of bull seals on a beach full of shining beauties and of rabbits on heat; yet constrained at all times by self-consciousness (that damned Apple in Eden) and our communal sexual morality.

Christian Bishops, especially homosexual Bishops (women can be “homo”sexual too – and be Bishops – but that’s a thorny bramble patch not to blunder into here), have a particularly hard path to tread.

 Sex is obscured and dodged around by word mazes of a thousand double-entendres, rhyming slang and a million puns, in all languages, created to avoid outright vulgarity and to calm passions. If you ask knowledgeable religionists about the written authorities for rules of sexual behaviour, they will mislead you into other, Jesuitical, incomprehensible mazes, which rarely, if ever, mention the sex act – or acts. It is all very confusing, especially for Christian Bishops. After my sixteen years of daily religious Catholic studies, the only relevant thundering Biblical phrase in my memory is that “it”, whatever “it” is, is an ABOMINATION. And it will make you blind and deaf.

So, before tackling Abominable Bishops, let’s clear the air and plumb the depths. Our conflicted love and horror of sex is based on our innate animal drives to procreate, and we are peculiarly blessed or cursed, by God, with very pleasurable sensory genitalia and erogenous zones. These are best stimulated by a partner – in the same way that we cannot tickle ourselves but can be tickled by another. We have evolved or are designed to fall in Love.

We love the sensuousness but we are also terrified by the intimacy of sex – letting down our guard, being bamboozled, being caught without our trousers or knickers, or, like spiders, being eaten by our mate.

Our primate and religious sexual morals, which are also a blessing and a curse, are firstly, essentially based on paternity – Who is the Daddy? – Who has to rear the Child? – Who inherits the Farm? – Who is the Cuckold?

Even the chest-beating, dominant male imperative “Get off my Woman or Women!” is based on paternity, on Dawkin’s selfish genes, and on a thick layer of raging sexual jealously – “Is he, she or they enjoying it more than I do?”  and “How can I find out?” which is where our prurience and curiosity comes from. 

This prurience, the prying into how others “do it”, and our drive to do it with as many attractive partners as possible, but without being beaten to death by dominant males or females, takes us, particularly we males, into pornography and Rupert Murdoch’s Page Three of The Sun; where we can safely ogle and fantasise about completely unattainable, unreal, pneumatic, idealised, sensuous partners without being clubbed to death by their powerful mates. For as little as $1 a day, lonely Wimps can be safely self sated via newsprint – and women can cast an inquisitive, beady eye over the surgically enhanced competition.  Females, for reasons I cannot fathom, are more likely to dive into the painful fantasies of Fifty Shades of Grey, or as Victoria Wood sings  it “…Beat me on the Bottom, with the Woman's Weekly.” 

Secondly, our ancient, religious morality is soundly based in health issues. This is also built into our instincts as the Yuk! factor that all humans share.  All sex acts, however carefully performed, involve the exchange of precious bodily fluids. Once the love, passion, flush, glow and pulsating tumescence have diminished these fluids can be experienced as a sticky, tacky mess. We are here about to descend into lavatorial and even bestial realms – so delicate and sensitive readers should look away - now.

Sex can and does spread our unique DNA, our genes – and disease.  In my youth, we were dismayed and discouraged from The Joy of Sex by graphically horrible public posters of venereal diseases, VD. Once contracted these dreadful bacteria and viruses rotted ones privy parts, nose, jaw and face – and could only be cured, it was rumoured behind the bicycle sheds, by the most painful, tortuous and lengthy regimes that included scraping one’s inner and sensitive tubes with small metal umbrellas, cruelly rammed up and wrenched out to cut away the boils and pustules of illicit sex. The Joy of Sex came later, with the Sixties Revolution, reliant on the Contraceptive Pill; before which teenagers relied, utterly unreliably, on premature withdrawal or on extremely embarrassing to buy rubber-products. Some well prepared youths carried a single unused rubber Durex contraceptive, in their wallets, next to their ever optimistic, fast beating hearts, for many unsatisfactory years. A few, sad ‘50s Teddy Boys still have them.

After the apparently disease and sin free sixties, came that vengeful punishment from the Old Testament God, AIDS. When USA patient ZERO had been allegedly identified and AIDS was traced back to originating in chimpanzees in the Congo, comedienne Joan Rivers thoughtfully posed the burning question: “Who f****d the monkey?”. Which neatly brings us to the religious interdiction on bestiality, which is clearly not a good idea but, if you must do it, do avoid hedgehogs and porcupines.

To recap, our sexual mores are based on who fathered the child; who is enjoying sex more than me; and how to avoid unpleasant and fatal diseases.

To persuade pre-history tribes of the downside of overly liberal sex, the wise elders imposed an All Seeing God, Sin, Retribution, Hell and Burning at the Stake. The sensible sexual social precautions of early man and woman, to avoid incest, cuckolding the Chieftain, paedophilia, necrophilia, bestiality and Page Three, became distorted over millennia into the tangled, insane rules trotted out by clergy, of all persuasions, without explanation, today.

Now here is a secret – God is far too busy keeping the billion, billion, billion stars, galaxies and planets in the firmament, some of them 124,882,560,000,000,000,000 km distant, in their orbits, to be concerned with what we 7,000,000,000 humans are doing with the sensitive bits of our anatomies, on a day to day basis, for a minuscule period of our risibly short existence in His or Her Universe. The average human indulges in sexual practices for 0.3% of our usually harassed time on Earth. God does not define what we do sexually as sinful or as graceful – any more than defining whether shells on spawning coral reefs are behaving well or badly. ALL such definitions and classifications are human inventions; most of them are insane.

And so, at last, back to sexy Bishops.

To date, in written history, most high ranking clergy have been men. This came from the lusty male sexual madness set out above. Men are generally bigger than women, have a natural urge to possess a harem of women and thus feel that they, the men, ought to be ranked higher than the women – regardless of IQ. This also happens in troupes of monkeys and herds of cattle. So, from our primitive misogyny (hatred of women, which, oddly, many women approve) most positions of power were held by men; including Bishoprics. 

Due to the sexual vetoes allegedly erroneously issued in confusion by men with beards, seven thousand years ago, Christian Bishops and clergy of two thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred years and Convocations, decided to back away from the whole bewildering moral maze – and be celibate; to give up sex altogether; to abandon the 0.3% time of sensuality which comes with so many onerous caveats, sticky fluids and health and societal risks. If only it had stayed like that – but, a German reformer, Martin Luther, inspired the breakaway, protesting, Protestant Church, which in time allowed Bishops to take wives and have a bit of sex – but only in the missionary position.  Following this holy heterosexual liberation (men and women) has recently emerged homosexual liberation (men with men, women with women) and we don’t know if it will stop there.

The sexually suppressed and controlled masses, exposed on the one hand to Mr Murdoch’s Page Three girls, and elsewhere to prancing boys; and on the other hand to fearsome, frowning bearded, be-sandaled, puritanical prophets, naturally have become deeply curious about “What Bishops do in Bed” an envious prurience not confined to the great unwashed plebiscite, but now washing across all levels of the clergy. The Christian laity and clergy have become even more obsessed by what happens in other people’s bedrooms – and whether, if they have the temerity to enjoy it, they go to Heaven or Hell.

But, I repeat, if you harm no-one, God really, really, really does not mind what you, they or anyone does with their private parts. It is a purely human health and social matter. He or She or They are NOT watching. But your government, neighbours’ webcams and IT trackers almost certainly are.

It is tough enough just living, dying and being human. Let’s leave the poor old Bishops in peace to do what they want in their own bedrooms. 

ENGLISH SEX   - The great debate on same-sex-marriage  5th Feb 2013

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