I’ve been trying to make a list of all the rich, famous men I wouldn’t mind grabbing me by my genitals.

Yes, I still haven’t been getting out much…

I considered Sting (coz he is well known for being all…ahem…down with the pussy, but he might want to chant at me which would totally ruin the grabby-vibe).

I considered Robbie Coltrane (who many a Cracker-loving woman had a secret thing for until National Treasure which I had to stop watching, for it made me physically grab onto my nethers).

Hell, I even considered Michael Crawford (coz when I was a kid I fell in love with him and no, not as Frank Spencer – that would be weird – but when I saw him in Phantom of the Opera and I wrote to him after to tell him I knew all the words for Christine’s part and so could I maybe be her understudy and also that I loved him more than Simon le Bon, which was saying something coz I really, really loved the le Bon. He wrote back with a retrospectively rather unusually chaste reply for a 1980’s light entertainer and instead of suggesting we keep in touch and would I like to meet him backstage one day soon, he just thanked me for my kind words and told me never to give up on my dream of performing. Oh Michael, I did give up, but I can still hit the high notes after a bottle of Rioja)…

Despite these fine (slightly unusual, I grant you) examples of the male, my list of Celebrites I’d Like To Grab Me By The Pussy remains empty. I guess I’m just not that kind of gal.

Aha, I thought, this is surely because I am a natural GIVER rather than receiver. So then I tried to make a list of all the people I’d like to grab by the genitals.

Erm…nope. As a sexual modus operandi, it just doesn’t feel like a way forward for me.

Then I realised the problem. Duuuuhhhh! The reason I’m not into this uninvited below-the-belt groping must be because I is a WOMAN. Genital grabbing is surely just for boys only?

So I asked Gwyneth if he, as a representative of the male species, would like to grab me by the vagina and he was so, so, very, unbelievably, deliriously excited that I even REFERENCED my nether regions in his presence that I immediately realised my error and reminded him that it is not his birthday for many months to come because yes, I am living in a 1970’s semi-saucy sit-com.

I think if someone grabs you down there, without asking, you should probably go straight to the police. But only if you can be sure that you have never before asked a fella to grab you down there, because if you have, they will find those fellas by way of offering a lovely cash-reward and they will arrive in court to tell everybody that because you previously absolutely LOVED being grabbed by the genitals, this incident in question when you did NOT want to be grabbed by the genitals can be immediately discounted. And then we can all go back to a time where women dare not speak of sexual desire for the shame of it and fellas can crack on with being all grabby.

Oh please don’t be grabby. I promise we don’t much like it, even if you are a rich would-be President and look like a gigantic syrup pancake…