The whore who can't sing

Tom Wolfe, who was recently awarded this year's Bad Sex Award for some passages from his latest book, I am Charlotte Simmons, has said that the sex scenes in question were meant to be ironic, not erotic, and the British judges just did not get the irony. Reuters has quoted Wolfe as explaining: "There's an old saying – 'You can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her sing.' In this case, you can lead an English literary wannabe to irony but you can't make him get it."

As readers of this blog tend be rather, how shall I put it, sophisticated, I am certain that they will understand the irony in Wolfe's writing. So here's an excerpt:

Slither slither slither slither went the tongue. But the hand, that was what she tried to concentrate on, the hand, since it has the entire terrain of her torso to explore and not just the otorhinolaryngological (ears, nose and throat) caverns – oh God, it was not just at the border where the flesh of the breast joins the pectoral sheath of the chest – no, the hand was cupping her entire right - Now!

Are you singing yet?