As a writer (which is what I’m calling myself now) it’s often hard to find inspiration and being me, it’s often hard to find something that I actually like. This week I have achieved both.
The Joy of Teen Sex on Channel 4 is quite simply brilliant. If you imagine Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus crossed with Walking With Dinosaurs then you have some idea hw undeniably epic a programme it is. If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching JOTS, it’s essentially about a sex advice shop run by three women: people wander in, learn stuff about sex, maybe get covered in semen, and then leave knowing that next time they should probably use a condom.
OK, so this doesn’t sound too amazing, but JOTS is good in the same way that Piranha 3D is good; it tries hard to be serious, and fails miserably. The most notable “customer” was a young, clearly confused chap who came in to ask a question about his first time. Embarrassingly for him, the question was if he actually had a first time. He then proceeded to ask what penetrative sex is and if it actually went in. Yes, he actually had to ask the lovely lady at the shop if his man truncheon beat the hippy, so to speak.
The JOTS team consists of a fat lady who I assume is some kind of sex social worker, a sex coach who is under the impression that “lube makes everything more fun” as though she has it on toast every morning, and a Doctor, who for reasons I can’t quite understand is referred to as Dr Rachel. After hearing this a few times I did have to check to make sure that her last name wasn’t really Rachel. It wasn’t.
The customers consist of the standard ensemble of teenagers that you expect to find with any STI of your choice. These include a “Lad”, who slept with two girls the night he lost his virginity and can’t remember what order they came in, and countless stereotypes which always seem to compel you to murmur “lesbian” or other such apparent observations.
As astounding as these people are my favourite person to appear on JOTS is the legendary “Vagina Man”. Before watching this show I was naive enough to think that making casts of people’s sexual organs was more a perversion than a profession. Oh, how wrong I was. Not only is it a profession, but it is seemingly big enough to require specialisation. I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that Vagina Man’s specialty is indeed vaginas and whilst you look on he will cover your girlfriend’s private parts with plaster. After the masterpiece is finished, he makes you pick out said artwork from a dazzling array of cast vaginas – and be fearful lest you pick the wrong one, because forgetting her birthday is nothing compared to mistaking her fanny for the big camel toe in the corner. I guess the primary reason for my liking of Mr Vagina is because he took the time to construct an entire American flag made entirely of cast penis heads: for me, the best way to represent the world’s most idiotic superpower.
Unfortunately, as every great night comes with a killer hangover, every coalition government comes with David Cameron and every pair of girls comes with a cup full of crap, JOTS comes with Billie Porter. Billie is a teen journalist–cum–gig organizer–cum–model; basically she does stuff for money, much like a prostitute. And much like a prostitute Billie seems to attract men who seem more desperate for sex than Hosni Mubarak is for everyone to shut the hell up. Billie’s part of the show involves her wondering the streets and strip clubs and asking random teenagers about some topic of the week whilst being ogled at by a healthy blend of paedophiles and pre-pubescent layabouts. So my problem with her? She is duller than sitting in an empty room with a white floor, white ceiling and white walls with no light, no windows and no thoughts except “Duuhhhh”. Remember when your parents used to tell you that if you pulled a funny face then it would stay like that? Well this young lady didn’t pull any face, ever, and it stuck like that.
So if I take JOTS into the little sex advice shop in my head then we have a nice little hour of comedy entertainment. However, the icing on the cake is the fact that you actually learn something. “Tell us what to eat to make semen taste good”, I hear you cry. OK then, I will: fruit, cinnamon and celery. That piece of information in itself is more useful to me than a week’s worth of lectures and from now on fruit will play a big part in my diet. This just proves how much of a difference little things like two minutes of JOTS can make. And also that I can seemingly write much more drivel about something I like than something I don’t.