What Stephen Fry is probably saying to himself right now

Oh arse! It seems as if little old me has managed to insert myself into a veritable cauldron of hot water.

I did some piffling little interview with the beacon of journalism (and rather fine repository of male athleticism) that is Attitude magazine and, mea culpa, I wandered blindly like a herd of myopic buffalo into a forest of feminism.

Why, I hear you ask, did I even comment on the area of women’s libido and their predilection for all things sexual? Well, I’m one of this country’s most celebrated polymaths and it would be unseemly not to an offer an opinion on a subject when asked, would it?

After all, I am the font of all knowledge, as omniscient as the Oracle of Delphi, more pansophical than Jeeves himself – a supercilious fellow, who I did do a rather fine job of portraying, if I may say so myself.

It is, admittedly, a rather long time since I did actually engage in the act of fornication with one of the fairer sex, but I do have a number of female acolyt…, I mean friends, and they’ve never shown the slightest inclination to wander around Hampstead Heath of a Thursday evening on a hunt for rumpy-pumpy, so Quod Erat Demonstrandum.

It’s not even as if my comments are particularly original – you only have to take a wander through my celebrated bestseller, The Hippopotamus to see that I’ve said all of this before.

Anyway, may I prostrate myself in front of all of those whom I have mortally offended and allow myself to be thoroughly flagellated for my outmoded and, seemingly, controversial, views.

Allow me to feel thoroughly arsed off and bid my farewell to you all.

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