Written by CaptainSausage
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Friday, 7 December 2012

image for 2012 Bad Sex Award Winners Announced Nothing like curling up with a good book and getting the tissues out

The 2012 Bad Sex Awards have been held in Margate. The awards honour the very worst attempts at eroticism in literature. The winners must have produced truly toe-curling passages of lust - and not in a good way.

In third place was a Japanese novel by Fukushita Kanishagi translated into English, called "Mr Roboto's Sexy Fun Time". It is a futuristic love story about a toilet cleaning robot who falls in love with the woman who uses the toilet. It suffers badly from poor choice of English words - it appears to have been largely translated by a robot too.

Here is a sample from Mr Roboto's Sexy Fun Time:

"She gazed into his metal eyes and saw his metal heart. He sexy gazed back into her human eyes and watched her pupils dilate and contract in sexy pleasure. He attempted to do the same but his pupils had no control mechanism.

"His cold raging metal sexy phallus neared her soft human sexy skin."

Stirring stuff indeed. The second prize went to a book which attempted to cash in on the current trend for sexy vampires. Stephanie Diseased's thriller "Zombie Lust" has become something of a cult classic for its unlikely choice of undead fantasy, but due to the nature of its titular beings, it fails to be sexy or even remotely frightening.

From Zombie Lust's final chapter:

"'Oh, Hector!' gasped Stephanie. 'I don't care if you are a zombie. I still love you! All of you. Is there not a part of me you can still love?'"

"'Brains!' droned Hector, his arms outstretched reaching for her head.

"'No Hector! You have a one track mind for brains these days. But oh, I can't resist you. Take me. Take my brains! Do my brains out!'"

"'Brains!' Hectors arms wrapped around her and his mouth moved to nibble her neck. Soon she would be a zombie too."

The winning entry had to be something special to beat such an outstandingly bad field. But the confused metaphors and mismatched analogies of Lobelia Flaps had just what was needed. Her book "Iroquois An Explanation" is about a taboo relationship between a cowboy and a native American woman who can only communicate through sex. The judges were unsure whether to sigh in orgasm or irritation at it, but agreed that it was hard to beat - or to beat off to.

Here is the first of many love scenes in the book:

"John's horse-like manhood entered the wigwam of her womanhood like a drunk horse wandering into an Indian's wigwam and nibbling on the wicker furniture. His phallus was more like Mr Ed than Silver. Her real life wigwam had only ever encountered smaller wildlife and most of them had no interest in her interior decor.

"His powerful thrusts caused her to wince, like an inexperienced gay man taking it the first time, but she was no gay man, and nor was he, although he did once catch sight of a friend's buttocks and wonder what it would be like to ride the other saddle.

"Titijugjug was beginning to get saddle-sore herself. Her orgasm rose through her body from her lady parts up through her chest to her mouth, like the diagram from a cough-medicine advert in reverse. Not that she had ever heard of adverts, or cough medicine. Her own people's cold remedies were nothing like as effective as a packet of Strepsils, which she also hadn't heard of as they didn't exist yet."

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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