The difficulties of modernising 'The Joy of Sex'

The erotic deployment of the big toe has failed to catch on even in these days of sexual experimentation

Those of us on the forefront of the campaign to improve modern manners will have been immensely cheered by the news that the great classic The Joy of Sex is to be updated. Although the original 1970s version has given quiet pleasure to millions, particularly men with beards who were encouraged in their mistaken belief that hairiness is sexy, obviously whole sections are inappropriate for couples working on their technique in 2002.

The chapter on sex for the obese, for example, should probably not – if it has to be included in the new edition at all – make reference to a girl so fat that she could only attract men from the Middle East. Advice on knitting your own G-string is less relevant than it once was, while the erotic deployment of the big toe, a peculiar enthusiasm of the original author, Dr Alex Comfort, has failed to catch on even in these days of sexual experimentation.

In fact, worryingly, the sneak previews of the new edition which have just appeared in the press suggest that, far from becoming more enjoyably liberal in its approach, it is likely to be considerably more self-consciously prim than its predecessor. Prepared by Dr Comfort's son Nick, who is a political adviser to the Government, the new Joy of Sex is reported to have "evolved to reflect changes in social mores, in particular the sensitivities of modern women".

These words sound ominous, and so they turn out to be. Phrases like "women's lib" and "man's sexuality" have been dropped and although still largely a mechanical guide, greater emphasis has been placed on issues surrounding health and emotion. Inevitably, a lengthy chapter on Aids will be included.

I worry for the sales potential of Mr Comfort's guide. Dribbling on about feelings and medically correct procedures while also taking a bland and reductive approach to the difference between female and male sexuality may reflect a Blairite view of such matters, but frankly it is unlikely to appeal to most modern-minded couples. For all its hairy sincerity, the original Joy of Sex at least took some of the guilt out of the business of sex; the new edition seems about to take us several steps backwards.

Nick Comfort needs to escape from the suffocating embrace of government and get a sense of what is really happening in the private lives of new Britain by leafing through the pages of the tabloid press. He would discover, for example, that, according to reports, many eminent people – Paul Johnson, Jamie Theakston, Jonathan Aitken – enjoy activities which appeared in the first edition of Joy of Sex but were subsequently excised. Nick's revised version would be wise to raise a finger to notions of dignity and correctness and accept that a bit of consensual restraint and roughness are simply part of the richness of modern life.

On the other hand, if he reads this weekend's press, he will learn that, in sex as in life, careless talk can be dangerous. The technique of this week's celebrity bad boy – something of a surprise here, it's Stephen Byers – is, if the tearful testament of his one-night-stand, Barbara Corish, is to be believed, not untypical of male politicians. The late-night offer of a drink in his hotel room was made, he wandered about clad only in his black socks, indulged in minimal foreplay and politely asked Barbara not to moan too loudly for fear of anyone next door hearing them. But then Stephen – how the heart of every sensitive man will go out to him – made a terrible mistake. He got carried away. He began to talk.

We know that virtually every Byers statement turns out later to have been a misjudgement, and what he said in his moment of passion was no exception. "He whispered the most disgusting thing I've ever had a man say to me," Barbara sobbed later to the News of the World. "Some women like their men to talk dirty, but this was obscene filth."

With these words, the sheer complexity of the task facing Nick Comfort becomes clearer. The social movement covered by the now-proscribed term "women's lib" has rightly liberated a woman in her fifties to meet a man, accompany him to his hotel room and go to bed with him, as Barbara did. Yet, when she sells her story to the press, she can also present herself in the role of a helpless, pathetic, powerless victim. The man, on the other hand, can be described as "disgusting" for letting slip a few rude words while they were at it.

Here, one assumes, is an example of "the sensitivities of modern women" and Nick Comfort will need all his strategic spinning skills to make sense of them, as he picks a careful path between frankness and correctness for the new Joy of Sex. Personally, I think it would be sensible to retain that section "men's sexuality" in the table of contents but to add to it the phrase "rather confused".

terblacker@aol.com