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NO SEX PLEASE, WE'RE... TRAUMATISED? BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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NO SEX PLEASE, WE’RE… TRAUMATISED…? BY SANDRA HARRIS. © Last year, Ann Summers Ireland Ltd. reduced the number of shops it operates in Ireland from three to two. Also last year, sales from the Irish arm of this UK company’s adult sex toys and lingerie retailers nose-dived by a whopping forty-five percent, from 3.34 million euros to 1.82 million. So, what gives? Are the Irish having less sex and, if so, why? Well, there might be a couple of theories to explain this extraordinary state of affairs. For one, it might have had its roots in the COVID-19 pandemic, which was well underway by this time five years ago. Can you even believe it’s been five years? It’s mad how fast time flies. During this pandemic, if you were lucky enough to live with your spouse or significant other, you could have as much sex as you liked, because you weren’t required to socially distance or isolate yourself from people you lived with, unless you or they actually contracted the virus. In fact, people pro...
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ADOLESCENCE. (2025) REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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ADOLESCENCE. (2025) CREATED AND WRITTEN BY JACK THORNE AND STEPHEN GRAHAM. DIRECTED BY PHILIP BARANTINI. STARRING STEPHEN GRAHAM, OWEN COOPER, CHRISTINE TREMARCO, ERIN DOHERTY, ASHLEY WALTERS AND FAYE MARSAY. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. © It’s about six in the morning and a little housing estate somewhere in England is still slumbering peacefully. Suddenly, a convoy of police cars and vans pull up outside one of the houses. A cohort of masked, heavily armed men dressed in black and toting huge guns emerge from one of the vans and start to break down the front door with a battering ram. The family of four inside are terrified as they are shouted at to stay still or get on the floor. Upstairs, a thirteen-year-old boy who looks much younger is revealed as the reason for this early morning raid. He’s told he’s being arrested on suspicion of murder, though he’s not told of whom and strangely, no-one in his family thinks to ask. It’s a shocking opening to a well-plotted and well-act...
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COVID-19, FIVE YEARS ON. BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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COVID-19, FIVE YEARS ON. BY SANDRA HARRIS. © Was it really five years ago today that our government announced the closure of all schools for two weeks because a virus called COVID-19, also known as the coronavirus, had travelled here from China? It was better to be safe than sorry, we were told, little knowing that the two weeks off school would turn into five and a half months and that those months in lockdown would turn out to be some of the strangest and most surreal and bizarre we’d ever experienced as a country.   I remember where I was when the school closures were announced. In a record shop, looking at CDs. I was convinced, I suppose, like many other people, that it would be a storm in a teacup and over before we knew it. Boy, was my face red. The school closure thing turned out to be a blessing in disguise. My son, still coming to terms with an autism diagnosis, wasn’t having an easy time of it in school and the break was a huge relief to both himself and myself....
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AND NOW FOR SANDRA HARRIS'S DIARY... BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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  AND NOW FOR SANDRA HARRIS’S DIARY… BY SANDRA HARRIS. © One of the inescapable things about being a writer is the urge to unburden yourself of your doings, thoughts and feelings on a regular basis to your public, by which I mean the handful of people who might be kind enough to read your blog. Enjoy my free unbosomings pertaining to the month of February of which we are, thankfully, about to take our leave. I hate February, and normally view it with the distaste which one might normally reserve for, say, a persistent itch on the sweaty underside of Satan’s ball-bag, or something equally odious. (And I’m not even gonna mention Valentine’s Day  and the Bridget Jones’s Diary film series coming to an end forever.) For one thing, the weather was diabolical, or Dia-bollock-le, if we keep with the theme of the Devil’s genitals. For about ten days, there wasn’t so much as a ray of sunshine. Now, I normally consider myself a Goth who lives only for the short, dark days of wint...
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'BYE 'BYE, BRIDGET JONES...? BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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  ‘BYE ‘BYE, BRIDGET JONES…? BY SANDRA HARRIS. © It’s always sad when something good ends. It’s even sadder when it’s something like the Bridget Jones’s Diary series of films, based on the books by British author, Helen Fielding. The film series kicked off in the year 2000 with the wonderful BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY , starring the American (odd choice?) actress Renee Zellweger as British thirty-something, Bridget Jones. Bridget’s fed up of being single, of drinking, smoking and eating too much and being less than perfect overall. She buys a new diary to document her attempt to attain perfection and a zen-like state of calm contentedness in everything. The problem is that Bridget is endearingly funny, one hundred percent human and as far from perfect as you can get, which is why people love her. She’s a lovable mess, rather than a prim and proper Little Miss Perfect type, which would be unbearable. No-one likes a po-faced saint, lol. Her adventures as she goes in search of her ...
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WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW, IS LOVE, SWEET LOVE... BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW, IS LOVE, SWEET LOVE... BY SANDRA HARRIS. © Well, another Valentine’s Day is here and yet another postman is laid up in bed, possibly for days if not weeks, after humping all my cards, flowers, boxes of chocolates and other tokens and tributes of love and esteem to my front door from the postal van. The poor fella. I must remember to write him a card and drop it round to his house later. If it’s anything like last year, however, I expect his distraught wife will come to the front door and cry buckets about how Harry- that’s his name, Harry- won’t be able to work for weeks with his ruined back thanks to my post-load and what are they supposed to live on and how do I live with myself knowing that my beauty, charm, intelligence and sex appeal has broken yet another poor postman who, after all, was only doing his job…? It can get very trying, being so charismatic and sexually irresistible all the time. It’s not like how you guys think it is. It’s really not...
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THE JERRY SPRINGER SHOW: FIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION...! BY SANDRA HARRIS.

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  JERRY SPRINGER: FIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION! BY SANDRA HARRIS. © ‘Jerry, Jerry, Jerry, Jerry…!’ I remember one time late in the ‘Nineties, my then boyfriend said to me: ‘You’ll never believe what I saw on television last night. It was this American talk show, right, but the guests were knocking seven bells out of each other and the audience members were going wild, meanwhile, the host was just standing there grinning and letting it all happen…! You have to watch this with me when it’s on again!’ And of course I did, and of course the programme was the Jerry Springer Show, and the laid-back host who fiddled while Rome burned was the eponymous Jerry Springer, the man who more or less single-handedly invented what we now call ‘trash TV.’ This was TV that concentrated on the more controversial or sensationalist topics out there rather than the boring or sensible ones, and, from 1991 to 2018, Jerry Springer was the undisputed king of trash TV. The guests were often of the ‘poor w...
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