How to ruin a perfectly good shag by getting emotional, with the Mash sex columnist

IT’S real, it’s here, it’s happening and you’re about to get some, and now you’re going to ruin the moment by bringing feelings into it? 

Think again. Bringing tears to the bedroom is as sexy as bringing your mum. Avoid unnecessary emotional spillage by never thinking about any of the following mid-f**k:

Your flagging standards

In your fantasies you’re shacking up with a brooding, clear-skinned man with a six-pack, a trust fund and his own place on the Thames. In reality, you’re giving Dave a blowjob in his second-hand Nissan Micra, and the only six-pack in sight is the Pilsner in the footwell. Don’t focus on the gap between the two; focus on not lurching into the gap between seats.

Your wedding day

Six minutes of missionary sex after three minutes of foreplay, all boob. Do you hear wedding bells? Are you that desperate? Seems so! Quick, for a chance of becoming Mrs Whatever-the-f**k-he’s-called, bury your face in the pillow and pretend your moans of despair are after-spasms of the orgasm he didn’t give you.

Your ex

Remember the Munich citybreak when you thought he was going to propose, then he tenderly asked if you fancied the Hofbräu brewery tour? In a heightened coital state, these kinds of thoughts must be blocked at source. Be warned, even memories of your lovely teenage boyfriend who was only with you in an attempt to not be gay might set you off.

How lucky you are

Sex can dick with your brain as well as your Johnson, so getting some after a lengthy dry spell may cause a surge of gratitude ruining not only the moment but any chance of a second round. All because you ruminated on your good fortune. If only you’d been a cold, uncaring f**kboi she’d be on top by now and you’d last longer.

Nothing at all

Sometimes just lying there in an intense, post-orgasmic lull can set off the waterworks. And if gentle sobbing doesn’t freak out the woman who, against her better judgment, got naked with you then your desperate clawing around for an explanation will. Make a excuse, go to the loo, and on return claim you were crying at a particularly poignant TikTok.

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Your astrological week ahead for October 4th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

I went to the Riyadh Comedy Festival and laughed my head off! No, wait, criticised-the-government my head off.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Jon Bon Jovi, singer of Bon Jovi, had no idea he had named his band after himself. ‘F**k me,’ he said, ‘you’re right.’

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

There’s a Global ADHD Conference. Imagine being a speaker at that and trying to hold the audience’s attention.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

“Just put a flag in the ground and claimed a new nation for the British Empire.” “Jamaica?” “Yes, at gunpoint.”

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

In every TV show that begins with a presenter walking towards the camera, they arrived on set with seconds to spare but are styling it out.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Erectile dysfunction just needs some tough love. Try holding a meat cleaver poised above your penis and counting backwards from ten.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

You both pick your phones up straight after sex, but only to complete a short feedback survey, rate out of five and write a review.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

The BBC has decided the media has moved on, the fuss blown over, and it’s fine to screen Gregg Wallace: Inside The Dildo Factory.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

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Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Sorry if my voice is a bit quavery, I’ve just eaten six packets of the curly bastards.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

The kids are avoiding censors by calling paedophiles ‘PDF files’, which is weird because you always thought Word docs were more noncey.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

“Dreadfully sorry, Rodney. You couldn’t have known eating a bag of pork scratchings in front of Mrs Malley’s 600lb in-season boar hog would provoke that reaction.”