05/08/2013 10:18 BST | Updated 05/10/2013 06:12 BST

Chocolate Is Not Better Than Sex

How bad is the sex you're having if some brown foodstuff that you can purchase at a petrol station or in a hospital gift shop is better than some sweaty thigh stiffening human contact?


"Chocolate is so much better than sex" my friend wailed, her mouth wide open and filled with the melting substance. It looked like she had a moist cow pat on her face. Her eyes were crazed, as were her words. How bad is the sex you're having if some brown foodstuff that you can purchase at a petrol station or in a hospital gift shop is better than some sweaty thigh-stiffening human contact?

There are some things on this planet that are better than sex: Sleep, Xanax, bags of money left beside your bed on a Sunday morning, chilled calamine lotion on hot itchy chicken pox, diamonds in your scullery, cold pillows, brand new magazines in a doctors waiting room, hearing about death threats made to Jeremy Clarkson and negative results on a pregnancy test. But not chocolate.

I decided to experiment with it again. Maybe I was missing something. Perhaps I was eating chocolate wrong and I needed to approach it from a different angle. So I made sure I had the house to myself. Then I lit some candles and put J'taime on the CD player. I was a little nervous so I had a beer before I made my move. After chatting at length about dysfunctional assumptions and graded exposure, I made my move and devoured it all in one sitting. I waited.

Nothing. No quivery shiver. No post coital glow. It didn't even tease the hole in my back tooth as it made its way down my throat. The only similarity with sex was the few seconds of shame and regret when I was finished thanks to my Catholic upbringing. But this passed when I stood up.

I think the only time that chocolate could be better than sex is when you're stoned. There is nothing worse than stoned sex. Especially when you are getting down and dirty and the hash related paranoia kicks in. You're lying there on the bed and you start to doubt his existence. Then you start to doubt your own. So you aggressively grab hold of his arms just to check if he is real. Satisfied that he is, you then aggressively grab your own legs to see if you're alive. You can feel them but they don't feel right, they're kind of tingly. Have you just had a stroke? Have you had a stroke and this guy has taken advantage of you while you were in the middle of stroking?

Then the normal feeling returns to your legs and everything is going to be okay. But then you see the neighbours looking in the windows and you can hear your parents listening at the door. Even though you have no neighbours and your parents live miles away. You pretend to enjoy the sex out of politeness but all you're thinking is "OH MY GOD I WOULD LOVE SOME CHOCOLATE!"

There is a story about the singer Marianne Faithful, who was a former girlfriend of Mick Jagger's. She was allegedly found with a Mars bar in her lady bits during a drugs raid on a house she was hanging out in with The Rolling Stones. There are various different theories surrounding this tale but I now believe that this talented singer was actually trying to find out if chocolate was better than sex with Mick Jagger.