Score: 3 / 5
In Walthamstow, a researcher knocks on Darren Cord’s door, and asks if he would mind assisting him by answering some questions about sex, for the Social Science Research Society. Darren tells the researcher he is thirty-four, and has been married for three years.
“Do you mind telling me how frequently you physically fulfil your marriage?”
“About seven to eight times a day, I suppose. But that’s just a part of it.”
“What else have you to report?”
“Well we’re all in a couple of syndicates down this street, one for the lottery and one for the football pools. We arrange a sex-draw among all the ninety-six people in the syndicates, so that every one has two or three partners a day. Sometimes it’s someone of the opposite sex, but not always. We’re all pretty ambidextrous down here. Oh, yeah, there’s a nice lady postman who delivers here, and I quite often give her one. I can’t afford prostitutes these days, bein’ between jobs. But I’m still more than friendly with three or four of them on an amateur basis.”
“You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve encountered in two months research.”
“You’ll find I’m not unusual down this street.”
“Is that all that you get up to – what you’ve been telling me?”
“There’s my masturbation. I can’t tell you exactly about that, but ‘little and often’.”
“You must get terribly tired.”
“I do. But I never sleep more than an hour without being woken up by a lovely wet dream.”
“Out of all these activities, which is your favourite, Mr Cord?”
“That’s got to be the wet dreams, hasn’t it?”
“You amaze me. Why?”
Well,” Darren says, “you meet a better class of person, don’t you?”
