I, Partridge - Alan Partridge [97]
We’ve never spoken about it but I was doing him a massive favour. Still, I was happy to do it every night of the week for Dave because he was – and is – in a very bad place. (If I thought Dave minded me saying any of this, of course I’d not have committed it to print. I wouldn’t dream of upsetting the guy, because I know he has a bit of a temper, although it’s mainly directed towards women.)
In terms of making me feel good, this gave me a metaphorical ‘hand-job’.228 As did (less metaphorically) the new love in my life, Sonja, then 33.229
Yes, on top of a luxury abode, a successful business empire, a burgeoning television and radio career and membership of Choristers, I also had a girlfriend who was significantly younger than me. Fourteen years younger.
Sonja was responsible for awakening my dormant libido – and making it do press-ups! It had been a-slumber for a while. Apart from a truly distasteful dalliance with a menopausal member of staff years earlier,230 my sex life post-Carol had been as threadbare as the gusset of my ‘Number One Dad’ novelty briefs.
But Sonja changed all that – and how! I’ve heard of the phrase ‘a healthy sex life’ but this was ridiculous. I don’t know if it’s possible to be too healthy – Lance Armstrong maybe? – but that’s what our sex life was.
Within reason, I loved every minute of my time with Sonja. She was introduced to me by Pete Gabitas, MD of BlueBarn Media. Sadly no longer with us, Pete had been a confidant, friend and lender of production facilities for over a decade.
Pete had a stunning Ukrainian girlfriend, a decade his junior, and arranged similar girlfriends for six or seven of us. Mine was probably the second best.231
Lithe, smooth-skinned and so youthful I’d started pubing before she was even born, I couldn’t help but notice that she was a svelte, effortless size eight. In other words, she’d achieved through genetics and poverty the exact body shape that Carol had been fruitlessly striving for since she was 20. Just a thought!
And right from the off, it was an exciting time. I think I’ve mentioned what a lot of sex we had? Ever the joker, she bought a window sticker that said, ‘If the caravan’s rocking, don’t come knocking!’ And I made my own one that said, ‘If it looks like we’re having sexual intercourse in here, please respect our privacy!’
I was in two minds about whether to include intimate details of my sex life in this book, but I read a pamphlet in a dentist’s waiting room which said that it was healthy and important to speak openly about sexual issues, so I will. If Carol is reading, that’s her lookout.
Sex with Carol was all very sedate. It was effective – at least two of our copulations resulted in children – but sedate.
With Sonja, it was much more spontaneous. What I like to call smash and grab sex. Or a ram raid!! Sonja delighted in the spontaneity of our sexual salad days and relished my playfulness.
Using the full area of the caravan, I liked to pretend to be a KGB agent. But as a Ukrainian who had spent half of her life as part of the Eastern bloc, she’d rather pretend to be an East German gypsy, so I’d be the Stasi. I’d ask to see her papers before mounting her from behind over the twin hobs that were concealed beneath a work surface. She’d pretend to be confused and … I think you get the idea, gents. At that point we must draw down a veil.
Suffice to say it ended with us showering off, and me returning to my normal accent (Sonja had retained hers) before we’d both settle down to a quick boil-in-the-bag curry while watching a VHS of Taggarts and Magnums, the austere greyness of those Glaswegian skyscapes contrasting perfectly with the sunshine of Magnum P.I., like a TV detective yin and yang.
But it was more than sexual. Apart from the