♪ The bird, he must fly
♪ And the fish, he must swim
♪ The horse, he must trot
♪ And the girl, she must slim
♪ Let's all join together Hoof in hoof, hand in hand
♪ Fin in fin, wing in wing It's a very good plan
♪ Let's build a love state
♪ Yeah
Here in Notting Hill Gate!
Oh, I'm so excited. You know, it's a whole issue devoted to sex.
It's a great time to be alive with so much sex around.
Yeah, I know. There's never been so much sex around. And I have to say, I love it. I really do.
Sometimes, I think all the sort of sex in my head and the whole world of sexiness
is just gonna, you know, it's gonna explode and then it'll just be everywhere.
As long as you remember to tidy up afterwards.
Oh, no. Look, these condoms just keep falling out of my pocket. It's ridiculous.
I carry condoms because the opportunity to have sex might arise at any time.
―They're great, look. "Connoisseur Condoms". ―Yeah. I use those as well, actually. Look.
Your packet looks older. It looks as though it might be the first ever packet of condoms.
Do you think? No.
If my parents knew how sexually open and comfortable I am in that whole area,
they'd just really freak out.
They're so repressed. Like your parents, Alex?
Not particularly. When I was five, they made me stay up late to watch them making love.
What?
Well, it was pretty boring for a five-year-old. I just thought, "So what?"
Yeah, well, that's exactly what my reaction would be, too.
If they asked me to watch them having sex, I'd just think, "So bloody what?"
Alex, why did your parents make you watch them having sex?
They thought it would stop me being repressed and hung up, and it worked.
To this day, I'm completely relaxed about having sex.
Well, same as me. I'm completely relaxed about having sex.
I thought it would be a really good idea to give Jill
a whole half-page to write about sex from the woman's angle.
―A whole half-page? ―Yeah. Women have sex as well, don't they?
Yeah, but they have, uh... they have women sex.
Well, you know, obviously. And that must be... bizarre.
Don't forget they are 30% of the population, whatever it is.
Rickman's invited us to a sex party tonight.
―A sex party? ―Yeah.
A sex party. Wow, cool.
Yeah, I do. In fact, I've been to several hundred.
Several hundred? That's quite a lot. What are they... what are they like?
Well, you know, things can get a little bit "out of hand".
I think I'd like that.
I think you would, especially since it's been a while.
No, don't you worry about me. I'm getting my end away.
Yeah. You may be getting your end away, but are you having sex?
That's what I mean by "getting my end away". It's a new euphemism for having sex.
I heard a painter and decorator say it on Panorama.
I'll remember that. I can use it the next time I talk about sex to a painter and decorator.
By the way, that guitar you're tuning— it doesn't have any strings.
No, but I can hear the sounds in my head.
I have to say something. It's been bothering me recently.
I feel that a lot of members of staff are looking at my arse.
I thought it was obvious and I wouldn't have to say this, but that very private part of me
is out of bounds to all members of staff.
I think it's best if no one looks at it at all or even thinks about it. Agreed?
Yeah, OK.
One other thing—I've read that men think about sex, what is it, every six seconds?
Um... yeah.
Yeah, I wanted to make that every six minutes. Agreed?
OK.
Right. Well, I've said my piece. I'm just worried about sexual stereotyping and I feel...
Argh! It's a mouse!
Uh, no, it's a house.
I think it must belong to my nephew.
Right, OK.
I just got confused. It was a dark shape.
If you just remember what I said about the, um, you know, not thinking...
not thinking about my, um... yeah... arse.
Ray, I meant to ask you this. Did you have fun when you started going out with Jill?
I mean, uh, that side of things?
Did we have fun? Are you joking? Two people as unrepressed as me and Jill?
It was fantastic!
Oh. (giggling)
Hey, you two, come and join in.
Um... no, thanks. We're fine here.
Yeah, what time were you thinking of going to the pub?
Mm! (giggles)
Yeah, it was really good.
How long have you been balancing that guitar on your face, Hugo?
About two hours now. I just need a distraction to stop me thinking about Jill's arse.
Ever since you told me we weren't allowed, I've become obsessed with it.
I've gone Jill's–arse crazy.
Jill, this bash at Rickman's,
I should warn you it's the kind of party that might just get a little bit "out of hand"
so, uh... you know?
―I know what? ―You know, I might get off with someone.
We're being pretty open with each other, aren't we? That's what you wanted.
Yeah, in fact, I'm meeting a guy tonight.
Bit of a blind date.
I put an ad in Floor 'Em, the underground magazine for lesbians that Cynthia writes for.
How do you know he won't be a lesbian?
Because I placed the ad in the "straight woman wishing to meet straight man" section.
Is that one of their larger sections?
I thought that a man who reads a lesbian mag might not be as interested in my arse.
Lesbians are traditionally very interested in arses.
Maybe it's because they don't have as much to play with.
Firstly, that's not true,
and, B, feminism must always be the periscope
sticking out of the submarine of the new consciousness.
Well, I'm sorry, it's no good. I'm still completely obsessed.
No, me too. Can't stop looking at it.
Good job her eyes aren't round the back or I think she'd catch me all the time.
I know. I've never focused on it before,
but ever since she mentioned it, that's all I can think about—Jill's arse, right in my face.
Hope nobody's thinking about my you-know-what when I'm not here.
No, no, no. We were talking about RD Laing.
―I haven't done anything! ―What's wrong, Ray?
Nothing! I'm perfectly repressed... calm.
I'm off to Cynthia's.
No, it's no good. I'm just gonna...
I'm gonna have to go out and do something that's gonna stop me thinking about it.
Alex, you know Jill was saying about men thinking about sex every six seconds?
―Yeah. ―I think about it every three seconds.
―Yeah. Me too. ―(chuckles)
('60s organ music)
(Irish folk music)
Mick Jagger might be coming to the party tonight.
―Really? ―Yeah. Unless he feels too sexy.
Um... I was reading about him in Disc magazine.
Sometimes he feels too sexy and then it's dangerous to leave the house.
Yeah, Mick Jagger, you know? He must have sex all the time.
He might as well. Just think when he's 55, sitting in his rocking chair.
I bet he'll be pretty nostalgic for those long-gone days
when he was just obsessed with pulling chicks.
Yeah, I bet he'll be really embarrassed about the whole thing.
Ah... Oh, sorry, Ray. Uh, sorry, meant to say.
There's a crow in the garden been doing his business on your clothesline.
No, no. Alex, this isn't bird shit.
It's part of the design, you know? It's the height of fashion.
Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry.
Alex, I meant to tell you, we're going over to watch the moon landings at Jill's new flat.
―It's quite high up. Do you wanna come? ―No, thanks. I'll just watch it on television.
That's what I meant.
Oh, yeah. Sorry.
I thought you meant it was so high up, you could actually watch it with the naked eye.
Course, that would be a completely mad idea.
Do you think she minds you going to this party?
No. I'm looking forward to getting off with a different bird.
I think I could be drying my brushes before the night is out.
Careful, Ray. I think that might be an actual painting-and-decorating term.
You think?
I mean, Jill's great and all that, but sometimes you've just gotta splash your love around.
I bet you I don't think of Jill once at Rickman's tonight.
♪ Raindrops keep falling on my head
♪ And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
♪ Nothing seems to fit
♪ Those raindrops are falling on my head
♪ They keep falling
♪ So I just did me some talkin' to the sun
♪ And I said I didn't like the way he got things done
♪ Sleepin' on the job
♪ Those raindrops are falling on my head
♪ They keep falling
♪ Raindrops keep falling on my head
♪ But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turning red
♪ Crying's not for me
♪ Cos I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining
♪ Because I'm free
♪ Nothing's worrying me
Alex?
My mother lives around here.
I think I live around here.
(Ray) This must be the right place.
―That's quite impressive. ―Yeah, he's got a big old, um...
He's flattered himself there, though, hasn't he?
Undoubtedly.
(funk music)
That's the difference, Ray.
The man who can truly please a woman says, "I want to make love to you all over."
The masturbator says, "I want to make love all over you."
Which are you, Ray?
Generous lover or the mean masturbator?
Well, um, if I'm honest, I'd have to say I'm probably a bit of both.
―How is Jill? ―Good, yeah. Fine.
We've got this open-relationship thing.
Be careful she doesn't castrate you, Ray!
A man's greatest fear. Oh, God! I shudder just to think about it.
No, no. I won't allow myself to think about it. No! I won't.
Ray. You must never allow a woman to hold the upper hand.
Jill...
you look fantastic.
And, um, I have to say, I'm feeling very, very horny.
I want you to close your eyes, Ray.
And don't open them until I say.
Now.
What?
It's the proper thing to do. You're not in the right mind after being chased by that bear.
Forget about the bear! It's got nothing to do with us having a sex.
Yes, it does. Your male hormones are jumping around like Germans.
You've got your sign very professionally printed.
Planning on using that a lot in future?
Oh, yes.
Ray, come. Look.
You see that?
My swimming pool is shaped like my arse.
I find it erotic.
―You've got a pool in the shape of your arse? ―Yes, they took a mould and scaled it up.
I asked them to remove any blemishes. I'm not without vanity.
They could cause a child to trip in the shallow end.
Look, Professor Terry Phelps.
I'm determined not to argue with him. We always end up fighting and it ruins everything.
I'll just go and say hello. I'll be perfectly civil.
Terry.
Yes, well, you wouldn't know good sex if it fell on you.
(Irish folk music)
(Hugo) I can't stop thinking about her arse.
(French accent) We like you, Alex. Oh, yes, there is something about the way you look.
This is the sixth party we've been to tonight, but now I think our search is over.
You are cutey-cute.
Thank you very much. Yes, and you are...
I think the word in French is, uh... pute.
Course, that means "prostitute". Sorry.
Yeah, I think I meant to say... "very beautiful".
Ah, but you are instantly forgiven because you are cutey-cute.
There is a saying in French, but I can only give you a rough translation.
You attract us like bears to a rusty plank.
Yes, I think that must be a very rough translation
because I have absolutely no idea what you mean.
Don't you walk away from me, you charlatan!
―Don't you push me, you fake! ―Charlatan!
―Fake! ―Charlatan!
Look at them fighting like two young stags.
Terry thinks psychosociology is a bogus theory that Rickman has formulated
just to hide his intense fear of castration.
―I'm Gloria, by the way. ―Hello. I'm Ray.
Have you seen Rickman's swimming pool shaped like his arse?
Quite remarkable. But Terry refuses to be outdone.
He has a mini golf course in the grounds of his house in Spain shaped like his balls.
One can see them from the air as one flies in from Sociedad.
He got Filippo Arbetra, the great Spanish landscape artist, to design it.
―What do you think of that, Ray? ―Yep, I'm trying to picture it.
It's an uncanny likeness.
All I can say is Arbetra must be some kind of genius.
He's really caught Terry's balls.
He worked from photographs. Terry wouldn't have him in the house.
―He's a dirty bastard. ―I wouldn't know.
He's also done a splendid statue of my legs.
Oh, Ray, I'm sorry.
All this chat about golf balls and arse pools.
I suppose you've never even been to a sex party before.
Me? No. No, no, I've been to several hundred.
Yeah, I'm well used to having my walls stuccoed.
What's that?
It sounds like it's got something to do with painting and decorating.
So, Ray, what do you do?
Um, I'm the editor of a magazine called Mouth.
It's a mouth on the face of young people.
―I know it. ―Do you?
―Yes. I think you know my son Alex. ―Mum, hi. Uh, have you met Ray?
Oh, yes.
Mum, I've got these three French girls and, um...
(chuckles)
Good, good. I'm just gonna go off and have some French lessons.
French lessons my foot. I bet he's gonna have sex with them.
They'll be getting up to all kinds of weird, kinky stuff.
―I think that's great. Don't you, Ray? ―Yeah, I just... Excuse me a second.
Alex, Alex. Alex, what's going on?
I've been here waiting for things to "get out of hand". Nothing's happened.
What?
―Bird shit! ―No, it's not!
―It's the height of fashion. ―(Alex) Yeah.
Ray, I'm suddenly very bored. Could you give me a lift home?
―You've only just got here. ―You can give me a lift and come back later.
―Yeah... ―Come on.
Charlatan! Charlatan! Charlatan!
(Irish folk music)
Thank you. Thank you very much. Now, does anyone in the audience have any requests?
I can't stop thinking about her arse.
Ah, yes. That beautiful old Irish tune,
"I Can't Stop Thinking About Her Arse".
Come in, Ray.
―I really should get back to the party. ―Oh, come in for one drink, Ray.
Sit down, Ray.
(sexy music)
It looked as though there was another ghastly row brewing between Rickman and Terry.
They're such bitter rivals.
―Cocktail, Ray? ―Um, yeah. Then I really should get back.
And shall I get a rag to wipe that stuff off your shoulder?
Oh, no, it's the height of fashion.
What does this look like, Ray?
Ray, look at me. What do you think this looks like?
I don't know. I...
I think you do, Ray.
―It looks like a man having a wank. ―(laughs) What?
What are you...? What? You can't... I can't believe... You're so rude!
Come on, Ray. Lighten up, for goodness' sake. This is an uninhibited age we live in.
We can say what we like.
I've just noticed... I'm not wearing a bra.
Oh, great.
Did you notice that, Ray? I'm not wearing a bra.
(lock chimes) Aagh!
God, Ray, you're so nervous.
―I'm not repressed! ―I said "nervous" not "repressed".
Did you? Look, I've gotta go.
It doesn't open from the inside, Ray.
Yeah, but then...
You know, there must be another way out because otherwise I'd be in here forever.
Uh, that's not gonna happen. Is it? I was boarded up in a bedroom once.
Finish your drink, Ray. There's no rush.
Excuse me a second.
―Ray! ―Yes? Yes?
Could you come up here a moment, please?
I... just need your help for a second.
You like Arbetra's sculpture, Ray?
He couldn't keep his hands off me during the sitting. He's a dirty bastard.
Did you see my plaster casts downstairs? It's a little hobby of mine.
I've got all kinds of men to... Ieave their impression.
Film stars, politicians...
―I've even got my father's. ―But... My God!
Just the mere idea of suggesting to my father that I take a plaster cast of his knob!
―He would've laughed at you? ―Well, something like that, yes.
(door opens)
Oh, my God! It's my husband!
What are we going to do? He's very jealous. He mustn't find us alone in my bedroom.
―Oh, God! ―Don't panic. I know what to do.
Oh, hello, dear. Just doing another of my plaster casts.
Hello. Nice to meet you.
Come on, Ray. What's the matter with you?
(plaster squelches)
(Terry) Rickman!
(Rickman) Don't do it! No, not that! No!
Noooo!
Thanks.
Now, um,
before we do anything else, I have to say this.
I'm a person.
I'm a person who just happens to be a woman and that's just an accident of nature.
Just because I'm a woman and you're a man doesn't mean we can't have a perfectly...
normal relationship.
But... the one thing I won't tolerate is you looking at my arse.
If I even suspect you're even thinking about it, it's finito.
You're thinking about my arse, aren't you?
(Jill) God, even I'm starting to think about it now. Stop.
Stop. Stop!
I can't think about my own arse?
Welcome to our flat, Alex.
Michael, Justin, meet Alex.
―Hi. ―Hi.
Yeah. Um, not quite what I had in mind, but, hey.
Yeah, yeah. So I promise not to think about it all the time.
Just need permission to think about it sometimes.
All right, then.
That's great.
Relief.
Great, that's... Thanks, Jill.
Thanks again.
Just as long as you don't think about my tits.
I've been thinking about us and I just don't think I'm gonna get off with anyone else.
―No. ―No. And I just...
What do you say? Why don't we just...? I think we should just give it a try. Just...
We could go in there right now, into your bedroom,
and really, you know, have a...
(whispers)
Argh!
Maybe not.
♪ Love peace, love peace, love love
♪ Peace lo-o-o-o-ove
♪ Peace, love love, peace, love love
♪ Peace love, peace love, peace love
♪ Peace love, peace peace peace peace
♪ Pe-e-e-e-eace love
♪ Love peace, love peace, love peace
♪ Peace peace peace, love peace, love
♪ And all that we're singing
♪ Is love peace, peace, love love
So how did it go with those French chicks, Alex?
Uh, I went back to the flat and there were two other guys there.
―What? You just paired off? ―No, the girls just wanted more choice really.
Well, I shouldn't blow my own trumpet, but, uh...
(plays "La Marseillaise")
...I am apparently very "cutey-cute".
Shame we didn't get that half-page by Jill on the woman's view of sex,
but in the end there wasn't enough room.
I really should be a little bit annoyed with her because she wrote more than half a page.
Maybe one day women will have their own magazines to write about their views on sex.
―Imagine what that would be like! ―Oh, God... (sighs)