Living with the Truth Stranger than Fiction This Is Not About What You Think Milligan and Murphy Making Sense

Sunday, 31 May 2015


The Swing

A boy and a girl on a baby's swing.
Brother and sister
(I think they were brother and sister)
and he the younger by maybe two years.

He sat and she stood and worked the swing
and her printed dress flapped in the wind.

The boy peered with childish glee
and the girl said, "You dirty thing,"
from time to time, but never stopped.

6 September 1981

Sex is fun. It really doesn’t need any marketing. A little advertising, maybe, just to let us know it’s there. Because if you don’t know it’s there then you can’t avail yourself of it, right? But it really doesn’t need anything to recommend it. Other than itself. A taste is usually enough. Which is why a lot of people think that the apple in Eden symbolises sex. Which is stupid because they’d already been told to procreate and fill the earth. The apple must’ve been something else then. Which means there are other things in this life than can excite people. And those things usually need to be sold to us. Like riches. Or power. We don’t really need them. Sex we need or we’ll all die out. Besides it’s fun. Not everyone thinks power or riches are fun. We need to be told what’s fun about them. I don’t have a lot of time for marketing. Especially when people start marketing something that doesn’t need to be marketed. Like sex.

Sex is wrong. That’s what’s fun about it. At least that’s how sex was marketed to me. Not the fun bit, the wrong bit. You shouldn’t be doing it. It’s not for the likes of you. Best marketing ploy ever. Did my parents learn nothing from the serpent? They studied the Bible and they studied it and they just went right ahead and did what Satan did. Only this time it was all about sex. You’re not allowed to look up girls’ skirts. That’s wrong. And you’re not allowed to look down big girls’ tops. That’s wrong too. So what did we do? We went and looked. To see what all the fuss was about. No idea what we were looking for—and, boy, was it disappointing—but we supposed it was like alcohol. Why did our parents drink it? It was horrible.

‘The Swing’ has never been published before. I probably never sent it out.

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