It’s always nice when family comes to visit.

Who am I kidding? Of course it’s not – especially not when it’s my family.

My Aunty Mandy, aka The Mauler, dropped in for a visit this week. Cost me a bloody fortune in the end, keeping my husband out of her clutches. Bitch.

Just to explain, they call her The Mauler because she will throw herself, on her back, with her legs open, in front of any man she sets her sights on. And let me tell you she isn’t fussy about which man she chooses to maul – especially when she’s pissed.

Actually, I tell a lie, because Mandy usually sets her sights on one bloke: Dad. It’s only after she’s struck out with him that she takes out her frustrations on the next bloke she sees. She’s not fussy who they are, as long as they are breathing and have a penis. And given the levels of sexual desperation of most of the men this family knows, there’s usually a queue to be the bloke standing closest to Wolf when he fends off Mandy’s advances for the umpteenth time. Ew.

One of the few things I still sort of love about my father (and trust me, there aren’t many) is how he’s always managed to say no to Mandy. Even when he and Mum had had the hugest fights and Mum had stormed out of the house telling him to “do whatever the fuck you want”, and then Mandy would plant herself in his path with her white trash take-me-now charms on display, somehow he’d say no when it would have been much easier to say yes. I’m not sure how he resisted all these years, but it is kind of honourable of him – in a fucked up way.

I guess Wayne must have the same honourable blood flowing in his veins because, apparently, he also said no to the easiest lay this side of Corrina Balani. There was nothing stopping him – what with Mum being inside and everything – but he didn’t go there. Go Wayne, what a Saint!

But Mandy has gone now, to spread her love (and her legs) in other parts of the world, and things have returned to normal.

I like normal – long may normal last, I say.

I will admit that, in the past, I have had certain issues when it comes to sex. But when you have a sex-obsessed big sister and thanks to her (and her parade of ‘boyfriends’ or ‘fresh meat for the grinder’ as we used to call them) you learn, at a tender age, way way more about sex than you really ever need to know in your entire life, is it really that surprising?
And even today, yes, there are plenty of things I do not get about sex – mainly the things I really don’t want to do; have done to me; or to watch being done to others. For these things I have Angel and as long as she brings me the money men pay her for these things, then I’m good right there. No need for any more information.

But what I get now, that I never used to get, is how useful sex is as a means of social control. Men, it would seem, do not think with their dicks – because when the dick gets involved all thinking stops – but they are controlled by their dicks. Seriously, you can get a guy to do anything if: (a) the guy is horny enough; or (b) the guy has kinda weird things going on in his head when it comes to sex. You find these guys and push the right buttons and they will do anything for you.
This is genius. This makes me realise that at Loretta’s we are sitting on a gold mine – or, rather, we have a bunch of hard working women (and Angel) who sit on gold-mines for me! Not only are they capable of bringing in cash money, we’re also saving a fortune on the refit of the building thanks to their special charms. I love this game!

So anyone out there who has a problem with sex and plenty of it? Too bad! Sex is good; sex makes the world go round; we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for sex!

Go sex!

And if you want extra special sex, try Loretta’s – opening soon. We will cater to your every need and some needs you probably didn’t even know you had. All major credit cards accepted, but a discount for cash in the hand.