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Marigold and I quarrelled last night as to which of us has the most monstrous mother and only stopped when Marigold screamed, "You couldn't find my clitoris if you were led there by Sir Ranulph Fiennes." After she'd slammed out I consulted 'The Joy of Sex' and discovered that I'd probably been playing too much attention to relevantly unimportant bits of her genitalia whilst ignoring the clitoris, yet it had been staring me in the face for the last eighteen months.
