Janis Hetherington – Part 16: "Ex-bisexuals?"


Janis at the BBC Oxford Radio station

Janis Hetherington was the first UK woman in an openly same-sex couple to be artificially inseminated. In this, the 16th part of her exclusive autobiographical series for Biscuit, Janis takes to the airwaves again to recall her “lurid” past…

Well back we are at the Beeb studios in Oxon on this dull day in October hoping as usual for inspiration for my new Biscotti article to whet your insatiable appetites. What snippets of bisexuality will whizz past my ear lobes that can luxuriate in the pages of the now Stonewall-award-nominated Biscitti?

It all seemed like doom and disaster as my wonderful presenter Kat was on her hols and I was to be interviewed along with my naughty young mucker Adam by a Radio 2 DJ who was unfamiliar with our ribaldry and double ententes by the dozen. Apart from which Adam had set me he onerous task of putting the words “pineapple”, “erudite” and “cheese grater” into our conversations without disturbing the context of the questions posed. Obviously we NEVER use such ribaldry on serious subjects but since we were to be discussing flatulent Cows with nappies and MPs (always a subject inviting great mirth and derision) a bit of jesting seemed appropriate. I had duly set Adam the hazardous ordeal of fitting in one of the longest words in the OD (Oxdick), “antidisestablishmentatarianism”.Easy peezywhen the subject is MPS. He’d got orft extremely lightly. I worked out I could poke it in as Farage’s manifesto pledge but then I was not challenger so to speak.

As usual with such jocular debates the off-air lingo is usually bordering on scandalous intrigues and naughty gossip and I was delighted to learn our Beeb stand-in was of an age to have mixed with some of my old muckers from my own scandal-filled days of running brothels that catered for the top popsters and superstars of the late 60s and early 70s. Tee hee… perhaps this would be fun.

I duly got over my little challenge whilst deep in conversation about the life shattering difference Inventions made to our humdrum existence. Have volunteered that a flushing lavatory was something the erudite COUNTESS (my brothel days nickname) could not possibly be parted from and that a cheese-grater for my nutmeg without which my pineapple would be rendered inedible I could relax and concentrate on ascertaining where and with whom some my ex -lovers were shacking up. Nothing like a bit of ketchup time… Blimey SHE ISN’T WITH HIM IS SHE???????

Although the listeners are not (thank goodness) treated to such salacious tittybitz a great rapport with the presenter is essential for the witty repartee when our unscripted contributions hit the air waves in coherent fashion.

Our stand-in DJ immediately flooded my lickle grey cells with images of my young self – 40-odd (very odd) years ago prancing around our brothel/party house inspecting the “talent”, that consisted of nubile wannerbe starlets and models all dying to meet a producer/agent who would whisk them from their humdrum 15 quid a week slave labour jobs to a world of fast cars, fancy gear and nonstop parties. So very few made it and the ones who didn’t and actually survived to claim back their boringly safe existence and become MRS.2.4 children and now Grandma 4.8 grandkids are horrified to see facsimiles of their lives relived through the columns of daily rags in their witch hunt for heads to roll after the Saville and Rolf Harris disclosures. The double dilemma seems to be not so much the fact that they were heterosexually promiscuous but that they indulged in orgies with other beautiful women and THAT they did not want the grandkiddies to know about… Yuck!

9781908509086_200_love-lies-bleeding_haftadIn my booky Love Lies Bleeding I had taken care to protect the names of the girlies who over the years I had seen transformed into the very “pillars” of society that the WI welcomes with Land of Hope and Glory and the prospect of a naughty nudie calendar as the most risqué pastime they may indulge in in their dotage. But lesbian love???? Crikey even a spot of 50 Shades of Grey seems more respectable and no they are NOT bisexual…. never. Yes it was fun but just a laugh.. wasn’t it?????

Of course I’m talking in terms of a majority here. Perhaps 20 still in contact at the most and probably 15 of those would be horrified by lurid revelations.

The others do still dabble from time to time and still puff the old weed and watch The X Factor dreaming of what could have been. However, they’re always wanting to keep THAT period of time wrapped in the cellophaned glamour they embossed it with when boasting about the odd clip of their mini-skirted selves glimpsed cavorting on Top of the Pops or such regurgitations of yesteryear.

The couple or so who made it into the big time followed the trends (as one knew they would) confessing their sins when it suited the latest blockbuster they were promoting or doting on their third toyboy liaison to prove their quest for eternal youth had always been a Botoxed blow job away. When Cara made it big time with her latest female arm-candy they hotlined to their ever greedy agents another few column inches of how they just adored their first Sapphic kiss even though they always knew they could with agility and grace swing from the chandeliers both ways and even in circles!!! Attaaah gals… that’ll pay for your next bob and tuck!!

Wowee. All these thoughts prompted yet again by a few moments of airtime and a blast from the past that was totally unexpected. Such are the vicissitudes of a life on the cusp.

Amazingly on the same prog we managed to declare most politicians wankers except of course for those I count as friends and who this week came up trumps by supporting the vote in favour of Palestine… which again added a tankful of fuel for après dinner chit chat, reminding me of those whose names may well come out in the next few months as part of the Thatcher cover-up, if they can ever find anyone “clean enough to head an enquiry”!!! What japes as we would have guffawed yonks ago whilst rolling a foot long spliff and sipping flaming Sambuca.

All that fun, all that decadence and now all that guilt. Not mine. I never deviated from deviation and still allow my old bones the occasional frolic if one comes my way. Is the price of respectability still skewed on the hang-ups of gender orientation that bi is to try for a dabble but not for real grown-ups? Well this old bird has just got to content herself in that case that all the notches on my bed-post should immediately be filled in and carefully sanded so only the merest smidgeon of evidence can recall that brief interlude of ephemeral fun…. Well I shan’t get the carpenter over just yet… Mind you SHE’s quite a dish!!!!

More to come from the Countess yet!!!



Janis Hetherington, Part 15 – “Nothing is black and white”

Janis Hetherington, Part 14 – “Arabian Ladyes”

Janis Hetherington, Part 13 – “Blow-up dolls and secret cells”

Janis Hetherington, Part 12 – “Major Ronald”

Janis Hetherington, Part 11 – “Fatwa”

Janis Hetherington, Part 10 – “Split personality”

Janis Hetherington, Part 9 – “Eccentricity”

Janis Hetherington, Part 8 – “Polyamorality”

Janis Hetherington, Part 7 – “We still weren’t ‘normal’…”

Janis Hetherington, Part 6 – “The publicity years”

Janis Hetherington, Part 5 – “Meeting Biscuit”

Janis Hetherington, Part 4 – “The custody battle”

Janis Hetherington, Part 3 – “The death”

Janis Hetherington, Part 2 – “Breaking the rules of 70s family life”

Janis Hetherington, Part 1 – “A graphic sexual voyage”










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Janis Hetherington

Outrageously, rebelliously outspoken. Sexually incontinent. Avid supporter of lost causes: ever hopeful they will be transformed, ever fearful that once they are they will become the monsters that trampled them. Janis is the author of "Love Lies Bleeding: Memoirs of a Sexual Revolutionary".

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