I always thought that beginning to learn about sex education was a bit of a formality: A year five student could turn up for school, sit down in front of a video, giggle at a few penises and go home full of knowledge of both respective reproductive systems. If they were lucky, they might depart with a magazine or other such literature and possibly even a free gift, but the bones of the matter is that that first day of ’sex ed’ represents an intital step on the path to full sexual erudition, which culminates in placing a condom over a plastic willy and coating the tables in the languages classroom in lubricant in the process. That, theoretically, is how it works.

Unfortunately, as we are all aware, things rarely go exactly to plan and, with their insatiable desire to learn more, ten year olds are prone to asking supplementary questions to whoever is unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. In this instance it was I who happened to be in the vicinity and my brother who was the ten year old with a yearning for additional knowledge. Thus it was that I had to compose a suitable response to the question of what was involved in a ‘69′ while Mum and Dad shirked their parental responsibilities, eating dinner in the kitchen. Great.

“Well John”, I began, “what you don’t perhaps learn straight away in sex education . . . or in sex education at all”. I took a pause to collect myself and think about how I could most kindly put what had to be said. It most certainly wasn’t made easier by the fact that John was lying on the sofa nonchalantly flicking through some pieces of homework like some sort of arsey business executive asking his secretary for the Jameson reports, whatever they are.

It was no use. I had to give the absolute dictionary definition of what it was. “A 69 is where a man and woman lie on top of each other and lick each other’s private parts. It looks a bit like a number 69 on its side”.

“Oh”, said John, “Why have they just said Tiger Woods had got one?”. Drat*. He was asking about the golf score on BBC One.

The moral of the story is always refer questions about sex upwards to those who are qualified to deal with them, aka Mum and Dad.

Photo of some sperm courtesy of this bloke

*You may wish to insert your own, more powerful and more appropriate expletive here.

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