Could Fanny be educating Snorty about hetrosexual sex by reading the chapter describing Anne Glenconner's honeymoon out loud to him......
"Like most brides of my background, I was a virgin and I was anxious about our wedding night. All that my mother had told me about sex was: 'Do you remember Daddy's Labrador getting on top of Biscuit? Well, that's what happens when you get married, except you'll probably be lying down.'
After the reception, Colin and I flew to Paris for the first part of a six-month honeymoon. By the time we got to the hotel, it was the middle of the night and I was exhausted. But not Colin. On seeing that our room contained two single beds, he stomped off to the front desk in a fury. The tiny night porter got quite a shock as my imposing bridegroom flailed his arms, raising his voice to the roof and waking up all the guests. In the end, the porter and Colin hauled a double mattress up four or five flights of stairs. Colin shouted all the way as the hotel's other guests came out into the corridors to see what all the commotion was about.
Finally, over the top of the twin beds was flopped a dirty, sagging double mattress. And underneath it all, somewhere, lay the exhausted Frenchman.
I waited silently, clutching my silk handbag with both hands, wondering what would happen next. To my surprise, Colin climbed on to the bed and was snoring within minutes. The following morning, our first attempt at sex was awkward and painful — and Colin was obviously dissatisfied, which made me feel terribly awkward. I knew he had been very promiscuous, often visiting Mrs Fetherstonhaugh, who ran one of the 'poshest brothels' in London, where the 'ladies' were quite often vicar's wives who worked part-time shifts for pocket money, returning to their civilised lives in the evenings.
I suppose Colin had never been to bed with a virgin before. But instead of easing me into the physical side of marriage, he had an alternative plan. 'I'm taking you out tonight for a surprise,' he said, after a slightly uncomfortable day at the Louvre. Imagining he was whisking me off to the Ritz, I put on my best dress. But as we drove through central Paris and out the other side, I began to get nervous.
The day before, I'd been exchanging vows in front of the Queen Mother, Princess Margaret and hundreds of other people, and now I was in a car being driven through the seedy outskirts of Paris.
'It's a surprise,' was all Colin would say.
The destination was nothing short of appalling: a filthy, rundown hotel, with a funny smell. After climbing some stairs, we entered a room and sat down in a pair of velvet, winged-back chairs. Then I was presented with Colin's 'surprise': two strangers, naked, in front of us, having sex.
I stuck the back of my head to the chair, sitting bolt upright and keeping my eyes closed. The intertwined pasty bodies of the French couple was the most unattractive thing you could possibly imagine. I found it perfectly disgusting. Every now and then, they asked if we'd like to join in. I found myself saying politely: 'That's very kind of you, but no thank you.' They carried on, oblivious, and then left. Colin and I hadn't exchanged a word.
I thought: this honeymoon is going to continue for six months. Six months! How am I going to cope? I've never quite been able to relax in Paris since. The next time Colin and I went there, he took me to a stage show featuring a man making love to a donkey.
For stage two of our honeymoon, we went to New York and then on to Cuba. Colin seemed to be settling down a bit — but everything changed when he took me to a cock fight. I watched uncomfortably as the men cruelly set about provoking the cockerels — pulling their feathers, shouting at them, then throwing them towards each other.
One of the cockerels, however, made a beeline for me instead. I think it must have mistaken my blonde hair for straw because, before I knew it, I had a cockerel's spurs digging into my scalp, and blood dripping down my face. Colin was absolutely furious, shouting that I'd ruined the cock fight and everyone's bets. Soon, the entire crowd was shouting at me, while the cockerel clung to my head.
The honeymoon continued. On a very long train journey to Yellowstone, Wyoming, we played cards in our sleeping car. There was a major problem: Colin didn't like losing. I kept getting good cards, and could sense his mood changing. Suddenly, he exploded and deliberately flipped a switch. The bed I was sitting on shut like a trap. I was squashed, my arms and legs sticking out, my head smashed against the wall.
Fortunately, Yellowstone marked the end of my baptism of fire, because I discovered I was pregnant. As we left, I experienced a great sinking feeling: I now had to face the rest of my married life."