And now we move swiftly on to the worst of cinematic sex - starting with the infamous butter scene from Last Tango In Paris (brace yourselves). Expatriate Marlon Brando meets young Frenchwoman Maria Schneider and before you can say Lurpak, things get very messy indeed. The result is astoundingly unerotic - and watching someone as old and out of shape as Brando do it with someone young enough to be his daughter just isn't sexy.
From the initial long, lingering look exchanged by Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche, this is a sparkless affair. The love scenes, which are obviously supposed to convey passionate urgency, are characterised by that peculiarly Gallic kind of po-facedness and provoked embarrassed tittering rather than erotic thrills in audiences. Binoche admitted afterwards that having Jeremy Irons's bits near hers was an unpleasant experience, and does little to disguise her feelings on screen.
Hustler magazine took to the screen for this skin flick and propelled a knickerless Sharon Stone towards superstardom. But sadly, the police questioning of the cool blonde author is about as sexy as it gets; the movie would have been more of a turn-on if it hadn't tried so hard. Unrealistic sex scenes are accompanied by epic music and Stone is described as "world class" after just one night in the sack. Director Paul Verhoeven of RoboCop fame might just as well be directing androids as actors, for all the passion he draws out of them.
Madonna and sex? You'd think it would be an ideal combination. In fact, this plodding flesh fest, featuring the self-proclaimed Queen of Eroticism on a romp with Willem Dafoe, will bring tears to your eyes - as it no doubt did to Dafoe when Madonna poured hot candle wax on his nether regions and raped him on top of a broken lightbulb. Containing a lot of gratuitous nudity and sex, this was unintentionally a resounding comedic success. Madonna sucking her finger like a psychotic toddler, talking about "the way animals make love" and doing naughty things in underground carparks had them rolling in the aisles.
For a voyeuristic movie centred almost entirely around sexual activity, this is jaw-droppingly unerotic. Pretentious, glossy and starring Ms Stone again, the film is hell-bent on separating her from her clothes and letting William Baldwin watch her at it. Scriptwriter Joe Eszterhas either depicts characters furiously humping or gives them slack-jawed sex-related dialogue. Characters talk about vibrators a little too often, and describe moving into a new apartment as being "worse than anal intercourse". Righty-ho.