'Mr Sex' opens the TOY BOX OF MISERY

Here's something I want to know, and I want to know it now: when are male sex toys going to achieve parity with their female counterparts? It's bad enough that women have far more pulling opportunities than we do. Even worse that they have access to sex toys that actually work. Here's an experiment; imagine that one of your female work colleagues let it slip that she had a Rabbit in their bedroom drawer. What would be your reaction? I'm guessing it would veer from "Good for her for exploring her sexuality" to "Fwooooorrr". Now imagine that one of your male colleagues had something similar in his possession. Not such a positive image, is it?

Women absolutely dominate the sex toy industry these days, and rightly so. The Rabbit may have been a handy plot device in Sex and the City, but the reason that people bang on about it all the time is that it actually works. I used to know an incredibly attractive and ridiculously flirty woman in her late thirties who had no end of male attention, who told me that she'd never had an orgasm in her life until she bought a Rabbit. That's how good it is. Meanwhile, us blokes are still stuck in the Dark Ages of inflatable this and simulated that.

In a way, we've pretty much brought it on themselves. While women demand products that actually deliver the goods, we demand some kind of ludicrous 'realism' to help us get over the fact that we're not actually having sex with a real woman. Obviously, this has got to change sometime soon; the female market is nearing saturation point, and - more importantly - there's too much money at stake. Whoever comes up with a male sex toy that blokes will use without feeling guilty will probably be able to buy Australia.

It goes without saying that Todger Talk will reviewing male sex toys at some point, but for now, I'd like to dig something out of the archives. It's the balmy summer of 2000, and I'm working for a grot mag who is giving away £1,000 worth of sex toys in a competition. A huge box of filth has arrived in the post, and we drag it to a Soho rooftop to take pics, have a cheeky spliff, and piss about, basically. What follows is a valuable document of female sex toys in those pre-Rabbit times, and male sex toys as they pretty much are now...

It goes without saying that then, as now, vibrators pretty much dominated the female end of the sex toy market. But look at these. They're special. The one on the left looks as it it was hand-carved by Masai tribesmen, so I think it's supposed to be very ethnic and authentic. But then again, when you remember what they do over there, it rather defeats the object (Oh, and it's made of plastic).

The one on the right, on the other hand, has a rather fetching giraffe-skin effect, and was part of a range that includes tiger, leopard and zebra skin vibs. Perfect for Bet Lynch, or women who fantasise about being shagged by jungle animals.

Because we all know you do, eh ladies?

Wahey! Wasn't I lucky to find a dick pump that matched me two-sizes-too-big shirt, eh readers? I really regret that I didn't get a pic of the box, as it had some bloke on the front who looked as if he usually did photoshoots for Kay's Catalogue, and wasn't happy about the last-minute booking. His body posture screamed "HEY! I'M MAKING MY COCK BIGGER, AND I LOVE IT!" while the look on his face said "I want death. Now." Yes, they still sell dick pumps. And yes, they still don't work.

Obviously, there were a lot of sex dolls. Back in the day, they used to be really manky, but with the advent of new 21st-century technology, you can bet your arse that they're a lot more realistic. And look! This one is based on top porn star Sharon Slone (whoever the fuck she is), and the packaging says it's hyperrealistic! Fucking YES! Let's have a look at it!

Oh.

(Incidentally, I had a friend who used to work at a sex shop round the corner, and once overheard him pass on the following advice to a punter; when you buy a sex doll, never be tempted to blow it up the whole way, because if you do the vagina will pop out and it's an absolute bastard to get back in. If you learn nothing else from Todger Talk, take that factoid to the grave)

Anyway, let's have a look at this other one and get a threesome on...

Ooer. A Ladyboy doll with 'Realistic Vibrating Penis' and 'Strong Breasts'. So, 4,000 years of human endeavour has come to this - being taken up the arse by a balloon.

Here's something that appears to have been consigned to the back of History's wardrobe - the Butterfly. And thank God for that. I understand what they were supposed to do - I just never worked out why they had to look like butterflies. Was there some kind of board meeting at a factory in Doncaster?

"So, Les we've got this great new product that lasses can strap around their fannies and have a right good fiddle with. It'll sell like hot cakes"

"Aye, Roy, but there's a problem. It's a big chunk o' plastic, and the nice ladies will not be keen on lobbing a big chunk of placcy wotsit around their flanges"

"Hmm, you've got a point there, Les. let's make it look like summat nice and feminine that lasses lik...hmm...what about a cat's head?"

"A nice cake? A Catherine Cookson book? David Hassellhoff?"

"I reckon an animal of some sort. A Shetland Pony...no, a baby elephant...a panda?"

"A butterfly?"

"A BUTTERFLY! Champion suggestion, Les! What lady wouldn't want a butterfly flittering and a-fluttering around their minge? Let's do it!"

When you actually hold one of these in your hand, many questions come into your mind: "Why?" being the main one. I don't know about you, but if I was a woman, I think I'd sooner prefer having Ronald Reagan's face up against me crotch. The second question is "Why does this 'butterfly' look more like a Gay facehugger out of the Alien trilogy?"

(Still, it had its uses. I nicked it and went to a fancy-dress party as the poster for Silence Of The Lambs)

The next item nearly won the prize for Most Unsavoury In Show. According to the box, this is a genuine rubber cast of the genitalia of some famous porn star whose name escapes me. There were photos of her arse and fanny encased in Plaster of Paris. According to the blurb, this is the most realistic experience one can ever have with something that's made of rubber and looks like something you'd find on a plate at Little Chef. I don't know about you, but I see nothing 'realistic' about having sex with something that resembles the contents of a jar that Jack The Ripper would have paid a thruppenny bit to see at a Victorian fairground.

But this wasn't the most horrific thing I saw. Oh no. Not by a long chalk.

This, my friends, was called 'Lolita', and at first glance, it didn't look any more different than all the other bits of plastic that you stick your cock in, set to vibrate, and look like rolled-up socks that have been thrown in the corner of the bedroom after a night on the piss. At the previous company I worked at, we sold something very similar called a Talking Vagina. You pressed a button, and it would go "FUCZZZZZZZZHHH MEEEEHHHHZZZZ! FUCZZZZZZZZHHH MEEEEHHHHZZZZ!". It was very popular in Wales.

This was far worse, and I'll tell you why. Disregard the obvious paedophilic overtones. Let's not talk about the fact that it looks as if you're shagging a Lilliputian prostitute. Come and have a look around the, er, 'Tradesman's Entrance'...

Now, according to the package, this item will let you relive 'The First Time'. And I hear you working right now. Your First Time was probably as disappointing as mine, but it could never be as bad as humping a wodge of plastic that looks like a big pink walnut. So, how? How does it recreate that special inauguration into sexual maturity?

I'll show you. See the slit? There's a thin membrane covering it. In other words, you have to break it in. On my Mam's life, I'm not lying. The whole point of this fucking thing is to feel the satisfaction of taking the virginity of a hunk of latex.

OK, so that was then, and this is now. As I said, male sex toy reviews will be forthcoming...