These days, in a world where adolescents get all their sex education from pornography, Adam may have named the animals, but Ron Jeremy names the vaginas. As one might expect, when one leaves the choice of words to porn stars who are improvising the dialogue during a double-penetration scene, not much thought, delicacy or aesthetic goes into it. As a result, there is a whole generation of girls growing up whose ‘go to’ phrase for their genitalia is ‘pussy’. Personally I dislike ‘pussy’. I’ve heard ‘pussy referred to in the third person too many times in porn films for it to seem like a joyful or fun word. ‘Your pussy likes that, doesn’t it?’ ‘Shall I give this to your pussy?’ It’s got all that unpleasant physical-disconnect bullshit - women separated from their vaginas - that I find un-hot in bad pornography, PLUS gives the constant, unsettling impression that the gentlemen might actually be referring to the woman’s cat, which is sitting just out of camera shot, glaring balefully. One day, I think, idly, all the cats who are watching porn being made will rise up, revolted by all the uncouth dialogue ostensibly being aimed at them, wander onto set, and ostentatiously vomit up a hairball in the middle of some bumming. But, let’s be honest, ‘pussy’ is the least of it. There is a panoply of slang words that are, in their ways, just as truly awful as ‘vagina’. Let’s bullet point! Your Sex: sounds like a pre-emptive attempt to shift blame.
Hole: a bad thing that can happen to stockings or tights. My Johnnylulu is a GOOD thing that happens to stockings and tights.
Honeypot: inference of imminent presence of bees.
Twat: an unpleasant melange of cow-pat, stupidity and punching. No.
Bush: the band of the same name are tiresome. The vegetation has spiders in. No.
Vag: sounds like the name of a busybody battleaxe, a la ‘Barb’ and ‘Val’. Suggestion also of chain smoking Rothmans, and borderline addiction to bingo. No.
On the other hand, ones I do like:
Minge: sounds a bit like a slightly put-upon cat. Sometimes mine feels like that.
Flaps: amusing.
Foof: pampered, slightly ridiculous French poodle.
The Saarlac Pit: endless resonance, not least because, however much it wants Han Solo inside it, it never quite gets him.
Of course, once you start with the silly names for your number one vestibule, there’s no real reason to stop.
‘It’s all going off at West Midlands Safari Park and Zoo,’ I will say, ruefully, sitting on the toiler during an attack of cystitis. ‘The tree has been struck by lightning in Tom’s Midnight Garden.’
On other, happier days, one can comment that, ‘The mist is really rolling in on the Mull of Kintyre tonight.’