I have just heard of another aid to seduction, alas too late for me to put it to the test. Armed with that knowledge and an XK120 Jag I would have cut a swathe through the Kentish maidens that would have made Don Juan look like an amateur.
A bunch of distinguished ‘ologists in the States (where else?) claim that when it comes to whispering sweet nothings, or even sexy somethings, in your beloved’s shell-like, it’s best to make the approach to her left lug’ole.
Why? Because it’s a startling fact that the brain’s right hemisphere controls the left ear, which is more receptive to emotional cognition than the one on the other side of the head.
In the experiment a hundred men and women listened to a number of emotional and neutral words and phrases played through headphones to each ear separately.
I expect that the sample, being students, responded or not to emotional appeals such as ‘come on, get ‘em down darling’ and neutral being ‘grand weather we’re having lately.’
We’ll never know. But when asked to write the words down the recall rate for emotional words was 70 per cent in the left ear and only 58 per cent in the right. It may not sound a lot, but an emotional proposition murmured in the lady’s left ear makes the success rate a significant 12 per cent more than the right. Bejasus, I wish I’d known this sixty years ago.
My current squeeze in those far-off days was deaf in her left ear which now clears up the question as to why I didn’t get too far with the young lady. And there was me suffering from unrequited lust and wondering what was wrong with my sextique.
If only I’d known, I would have bought her a hearing aid, or even an ear trumpet, although it would be difficult to stow it in the Jag.
Couple of speed cops pulled along side a car that being driven a touch too fast and saw the driver was apparently throttling a dog sitting alongside. So they gave him a touch of the old twos and blues.
The senior cop said: ‘I don’t mind you driving a few mph over the limit. But strangling your dog is definitely over the top for a dog lover like me. What a merry hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Well,’ said the driver, ‘we knew you were going to give us a pull and the little sod was eating my tax disc and insurance certificate...’