It has become apparent that my love live is in need of a kick-start.  The home fires are definitely not burning but what I need is not so much a rekindling of desire as a police search for a box of matches and a refresher course on how they work.  ‘Did you know that you were living with the most desirable woman in the country,’ I asked my significant other during his last between-conference pit stop back at Suburban Towers.  What? He said, with his mobile glued to his ear, AOL on the laptop and CNN in his line of vision.  I popped up between him and the television screen in ripped gardening trousers, a Nirvana t-shirt, and last night’s lipstick, carrying a pair of gardening shears – which usually gets his attention.  ‘The-most-desirable-woman-in-the-country’ – I reiterated, quoting from the, obviously very discerning Times reader, whose e-mail I had received that morning.

 

Shhh, he said, pushing me out of the way, the news is on. Rule Number One in the handbook of marital seduction – do not attempt during major sporting event, world crisis or the seven o’clock news.   I’m supposed to be something of an expert on aphrodisiacs, and have appearances on afternoon TV to prove it, but I’ve never had much faith in anything that did not contain Goran Visjnic.  Enter G – a new soft drink with, reputedly, very hard results.  According to the can it contains ‘a giant helping of aphrodisiac herbs with a blend of uplifting fruit juice’ and features a man with a star on his groin and a big knobbly club in his hand, the purpose of which is unclear.  What is he going to do?  Beat you over the head with it, or does it have batteries?

 

Supposedly it works on your g-spot, which I hadn’t realised men even had (so much for my insider knowledge - no wonder the significant other only gets switched on by AOL), and, according to recent research, the jury’s still out on women.  I know I have one somewhere but it seems to move around a lot, like a rave which you have to find out about by word of mouth – left a bit, up a bit, no, change of plan – we’re having it up north tonight.  It seems to me that the g-spot is just another excuse for a bloke to spend hours looking for the lost city of Atlantis when he would be better off spending his time on dry land.

 

Whatever, the drink’s ‘uplifting fruit juice’ turns out to be primarily grape juice with a shot of mango and another of passion fruit.  How long will it be before those intent on tinkering with our lazy libidos figure out that passion fruit is so called after St Matthew’s Passion as symbolised by the flower – not bodice ripping rapture.  The juice might make sex a religious experience and have you speaking in tongues, but then again.  It might not.

 

The aphrodisiac herbs are gingko biloba, not a hairy toed Hobbit extra in the Lord of the Rings, but a substance obtained from the leaves of the tree of the same name, which increase the blood flow to the brain, and, more pertinently, it’s extremities, and damiana which comes from the dried leaves of turnera aphrodisiaca, a shrub that grows in brazil, Mexico and cultivated in California, which is a stimulant and whose alkaloids could have a testosterone-like actions.  So that’s where you get the big club.

 

Enjoy it naked or with vodka, goes the strap line.  Well, according to my own research most women thought two glasses of wine the most effective aphrodisiac of all – three shots of vodka, with or without three cans of G (the manufacturers prescribed daily limit) and anyone not flat on their back would probably find a hairy-toed Hobbit attractive.

 

Personally, I find the whole notion of aphrodisiacs a bit insulting.  I mean, surely a bloke can fancy the pants off you without the support of a fizzy drink, a frilly corset or a dose of Spanish fly.  Wouldn’t, say – a pair of torn gardening trousers – with, I add, exposed knees - and a Richard and Judy bra be sufficient to drive a man straight to his local branch of OdalisquesRUS ready to fill his trolley with mad, unrestrained desire.  Apparently not.  Even with G substituted for Diet Coke all weekend.  I’ll tell you what though – it did wonders for my gardening.  Those are the kind of beds I’m really good in..