Sex Instructions for Farmers

By Charles McSherry

Sex Instructions for Farmers is a light-hearted guide to finding and keeping

love
for that stalwart of the Irish rural community – the bachelor farmer. This man, while a prince behind his plough, who can freely discuss international problems, wilts before the female form. First published in 1980, chapters include sage advice on how to 'prepare the soil', how to sow the seeds of a fruitful relationship and how to reap the bounty from his labours.


Filled with pearls of wisdom, such as 'bottom pinching is unsporting' and 'the practice of changing one's socks once a month will in future be regarded as insufficient', this humorous piece of nostalgia may still prove useful to some modern men!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mercier Press
• Release date: May 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781781177235

Book preview

first things first

The subject of this book will no doubt evoke some curiosity in the mind of the discerning reader. This is to be expected and welcomed. In addition, however, to the deep and complex matter under discussion, the very wording of the title may cause a question or two to be asked, and justifiably so. We will do our best to anticipate these queries and answer them.

Indeed the first question might well be: is there a genuine need for instruction on the subject of sex?

We live in the age of the expert. The primitive and half-baked measures which suited our fathers and grandfathers are not necessarily those which are required by today’s standards. In a few isolated cases throughout the country the dairymaid still churns her home-made butter, but only as a tourist attraction. The oil-lamp hangs on the wall, not to dispense illumination on a regular basis, but in case of a power cut, and there is more interest expressed in the horse that runs at the Curragh than the one which pulls the plough. All of which goes to show that we have progressed with the times. We have become more enlightened, and if we have become more enlightened in other matters, then we must become more enlightened in matters of sex as well.

There is a fund of knowledge available to us on almost every conceivable subject. No trade, craft or hobby appears to have been overlooked. A quick glance around your local library or bookshop will show the diversity of skills which can be acquired effortlessly and painlessly in your own time.

We are told how to build henhouses in three days and how to play the slide-trombone in six months. Farther along the shelves we can lay tarmacadam economically and learn yoga for nothing at all. We are invited to increase the amount of our incomes and decrease the extent of our stomachs. If we forage deeply enough, we find that we can spend a week’s holiday in Ireland for five pounds a week (until we see that the publication is dated 1948). We can learn the necessary phrases in Portuguese and the basics steps of the tango while the potatoes are boiling for dinner. If all that is not enough, we can entertain ourselves by learning to play water polo or backgammon. The Care of Your Car and Bee-keeping for Beginners also look impressive in the bookcase, although, in the case of the latter, I give bees a wide berth since one of them took a dislike to me and stung me on the nose.

All this, of course, is only skimming the surface. It is merely to give some idea of the vast field covered by textbooks which will help us carry on the learning process when our formal schooling has come to an end. But sex is a much more important and one might say more desirable matter than growing roses or converting the attic. It definitely surpasses making artificial flowers or preserving tomatoes. And whether we like it or not, we are all involved with sex in one way or another. It is part of us; if it were not for sex, we would not be here at all. Sex is hereditary. Occasionally, we will hear it said that a child has inherited his mother’s brains or his father’s bandy legs. When a young man is going prematurely bald, we might say, ‘What can you expect? His father hadn’t a rib since he was thirty.’ Others will disagree and will discard these observations as rubbish and claim that what a child’s father had or had not has no bearing on the present generation. But the very fact that we are here is proof that sex is not only hereditary, it is heredity itself. And when sex ceases, then we too shall cease to be. There’s a profound thought for a wet Saturday afternoon.

The second question which might arise from the title of this book is more specific. It is this: why should the Irish farmer be singled out for special attention?

If the question is obvious, the answer is simple. The scheme of imparting knowledge in a specialised manner on this vital topic is, as yet, only in its initial stages. We are paving the way for greater things. As the farmer is unquestionably the backbone of our economic and cultural heritage, and as he represents our largest industry, is it not only natural that he should get first preference? In time, we shall get around to other sectors of the community, embrace hopefully all trades and professions. Civil servants, head waiters and carpet salesmen shall not be left out in the cold. Boiler-makers; sea-going engineers (second class) and music teachers shall all have their turn. Barbers and steeplejacks will be included.

Special attention will be given to those who work unorthodox hours, such as night porters, nocturnal switchboard operators, security men and gardaí who patrol the streets in the small hours. By the very nature of their times of duty, these people must experience some difficulty in enjoying the full pleasures of home life. Each category has its own special requirements, and it will be seen that the needs of the barman from Blackrock and the farmer from Falcarragh are poles apart.

Until recent years, this information was exceptionally hard to come by. It was a matter not spoken of in respectable circles. Certainly, a school I know was no place for such discussion. No harm to the master, who was a decent sort, but he would have run a mile from questions of such a personal nature. The poor soul would have been completely out of his depth. He was a sound man for history and geography, and a dab hand at mathematics. Being a Connemara man, the Irish gave him no trouble. He was good for the English poetry, especially if it was by an Irish poet, and he used to rattle off Goldsmith and James Clarence Mangan by the new time. He also taught us our catechism and our grammar, and what more could one expect?

Outside official hours he played a noble hand of twenty-five. He could have run an advanced course for card players. His proficiency was born of long practice, for he did little else when he was off duty. He was also able to lower a few half-ones. He had two wives and eleven children, but he knew nothing about sex. In fairness to him, he did not have the two wives at the