Sex sells, but it doesn’t spell

As an eminent blogging type person who is on the A-list - oh sorry, that should read “on a list” - I often receive emails from companies wishing to take advantage of some of the passing trade that might be provided by you, my huge retinue of ardent, swooning and no doubt exceptionally moist readers.

Without fail, I always respond to such requests by personally contacting the company’s marketing manager and telling him or her to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, though I generally put this in rather more polite terms:

“May I respectfully suggest that followers of An Unreliable Witness are not merely anonymous fodder for your cheap and tawdry garden gnomes / leather furnishings / decorative awnings / wind-up mechanical gerbils? (Delete as applicable.) Besides which, I do not place advertisements on my site for less than £10,000 a week. I get nearly as many hits as Dooce, you know. More or less. If you round it up to the nearest half a million. Now kindly sod off, do not darken my doors again, and take your link exchange and marketing opportunity with you, you horrible little person.”

However, in an extraordinary volte-face, today I received an electronic missive from another such company, and have decided to take pity on their request and give them the rancid, foul-smelling carbon monoxide of publicity that they so desire from my humble internet presence. Why? Well, it’s because they contacted me personally. Me alone. Nobody else. None of you other cheap, second-rate bloggers who would advertise your grandmother’s spare kidney on your site if you thought it would earn you a paltry couple of quid. No, just me. They clearly appreciate true genius when they see it, and were so moved by my obfuscatory, impenetrable writings about eyelids that they even addressed me by name, having no doubt perused each and every entry from beginning to end. Assuming, of course, that they were reading one of the entries that actually has a beginning and an end - which, as some commenters have frequently pointed out, is very rare in this unreliably witnessed world. Oh dear.

Anyway, to business - because, after all, business and making money is clearly what this particular company thinks my site is all about. You’ll have noticed how it’s currently absolutely bursting at the seams with unsuitable and completely irrelevant Google ads, after all.

The grimy, back-street outfit we are concerned with is called EdenFantasys, and - well, I’m sure you’re ahead of me on this one, aren’t you? Yes, sadly their name immediately presents a problem to someone quite so grammatically and linguistically anally retentive as myself. Not only would I strongly advise EdenFantasys that they may wish to split their company’s title into two separate words, as the English language intended in the way wot she is wrote, but it might also be for the best if they could spell ‘fantasies’ correctly before they try to sign me up to their latest internet advertising campaign.

Note for EdenFantasys marketing department: You’ll observe that I gave you a link in that previous paragraph. That’s the only one you’re getting. I hope it brings you many hours of joy, hundreds of hits from the many sexually frustrated readers of An Unreliable Witness, and at least £1.72 in clear profit, seventy-five per cent of which I will then expect to be immediately paid into my offshore bank account. Thank you.

The email from EdenFantasy (heavens, it wounds me to the core every time I have to type that flagrant misspelling) is titled Wonderful blog! - oh, you’re too kind, far too kind - and begins thus:

“Hello, I came across your blog http://www.unreliablewitness.com/ - very nice and interesting. It was a pleasure to browse your blog. You have very expressive and interesting writings on your blog, and I wish you all the best in your further blogging.”

Nice and interesting. Oh please, damn me with some more of your faint praise, why don’t you? Still, it was ‘nice and interesting’ of you to print the URL in full, though it might have made the tone more welcoming and informal if you had bothered to at least write out the full name of the site whose custom you are pursuing. Furthermore, English teachers as far back as my spotty days at primary school have always taught me never to repeat words too often in close proximity. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blogging. I shall say no more.

“I am Chris Williams, from EdenFantasys.com company, may I hope that you’ve already heard about it.”

Chris, it’s an absolute displeasure to make your acquaintance. I’m afraid that I haven’t heard of your company, no. Silly me. Sadly, the most exciting online shopping I do these days is when I loiter for slightly too long, perhaps in a slightly suspicious manner, in the fresh fruit and vegetables section of my virtual Tesco supermarket.

“Our store is selling adult toys and gifts, DVDs, erotic books, and lingerie … We even have a whole site dedicated to educational and funny sexy material.”

Oh, so your site is educational too! Well, why on earth didn’t you say, Chris? That instantly makes it all better. You’re obviously trying to appeal to the highbrow intellect of the average reader of my site, since they need to be quite bright to understand some of the long words I retrieve from the darkest corners of my well-thumbed thesaurus. Not to mention the ridiculously laboured metaphors and hifalutin poetic allusions. So that’s a good call, Mr Williams. A very good call indeed.

Sadly, however, whilst my readers might wish to avail themselves of your “educational material”, I personally have no need of it, since I learnt all I needed to know about sex from a childhood diet of immensely risqué Carry On movies, and an early 1980s sex education series for schools. This was presented by a stern, white-haired Scottish man who, as far as I can recall from those deeply troubling pre-pubescent years, resembled nothing quite so much as a stern, God-fearing, Bible-brandishing Presbyterian minister shouting at the wicked children to refrain from all vile and disgusting acts of procreation, or else their favourite pet kitten would be roasted alive by a lightning bolt of retribution sent by a vengeful Lord. Both these influences turned me into the well-rounded and utterly terrified individual I am today, and thus explains why I myself shall not be taking advantage of EdenFantasy’s “free shipping”, “discreet billing” and “hot deals”.

“We would like to establish a relationship with your site for better serve our and your visitors. This can contain simple link exchange, and I hope our customers will appreciate if we can give them a note about such quality resource. We will also appreciate a link from your blog to our site.”

Gosh, if I’m honest then a link exchange does sound rather exciting. I’m sure that some of the current occupants of the ‘E’ section on my links list would very much like to get into bed with your company. Metaphorically, of course. In a manner of speaking. As long as you promise that there will be no tongues involved. Or whips. Perish the thought.

So let’s talk about my link from your site instead, shall we, Chris? I have done the necessary intensive market research and checked out the various categories in your ‘Shop adult toys’ navigation, which has led me to the conclusion that a prominent mention of An Unreliable Witness would be best suited to the ‘masturbators’ pages, since everyone knows that blogging is little more than verbal masturbation, albeit with a slightly bigger audience (if you’re lucky) than the solitary pursuit of self-pleasure usually attracts.

Plus, as any blogger will readily tell you, this pastime involves sitting at home in the semi-darkness, staring at a computer screen, feeling a mounting sense of anticipation as you think that some sort of emotional release might be produced from such frenzied activity, only for the messy end result to be swiftly followed by crushing disappointment, self-loathing, and a desperate desire for a fulfilling social life. And masturbation is very similar.

“We also have a lot of other ways of partnerships, that you can find on our site.”

How about products branded with my site name, Chris? What do you think? I’m firmly convinced that a line of ‘Unreliable Sex Toys’ would sell like hot cakes. Suggested products could include vibrators with leaky batteries, for instance. Or a flogger without tails, thereby rendering it utterly useless and distinctly lacking in stinging pleasure. Maybe some lubricant with a Best Before date of July 1999, which is now slowly festering and breeding harmful toxins under a thin layer of scaly mould. Or handcuffs where the connecting chain has been snapped in half, so that it offers no restraint whatsoever. By printing my site’s entirely memorable URL on each item, it would be almost guaranteed that the sexually frustrated and disappointed lovers would go online and visit my site after their night of clumsy, fumbled and utterly bewildering attempts at committing various depraved acts with their Unreliable products. Instant hits for me, and I don’t even need to worry about them leaving my site feeling unsatisfied, because they will already be in that state when they arrive here.

“Please mail us your decision, or any other ideas, as we are definitely open to any good ideas.”

My decision is probably unprintable, Chris, as are the various good ideas about what you and your colleagues at EdenFantasys can do with your email. Let’s just say, however, that you might require some of your own branded lubrication. And some ointment in the morning.