"May prick nor purse never fail you"

This weird history of two men's sex clubs in 18th century Scotland cries out for Mike Meyers and John Cleese.

By Douglas Cruickshank

Apr 10, 2002 | Thank God for John Cleese and Mike Myers. There are times when just the thought of them helps make sense of it all. This is such a time. I've been reading "The Beggar's Benison: Sex Clubs of Enlightenment Scotland and Their Rituals" by David Stevenson ("at present working on a biography of Rob Roy"). It's an account of two 18th century men's clubs organized around "the joys of libertine sex" and frolicking in the "Colony of Merryland" ("merry" was a euphemism for sex in the 1700s).

Many of the members were power players during the golden age of men's clubs -- upper-class gentlemen, earls, nobles, "rich lairds," baronets and viscounts. They joined clubs for the same social reasons men join now, but the groups Stevenson writes about offered activities beyond the ordinary. In the Beggar's Benison, masturbation was the favored diversion (everybody kept their hands to themselves). The Wig Club, founded in 1775 Edinburgh, was named for its venerated relic -- "one renowned Wig worn by the Sovereign composed of the Privy-hairs of Royal courtezans." The Beggar's Benison began in 1732 in the town of Anstruther in the East Neuk of Fife on the Firth of Fourth. See what I mean about Cleese and Myers? And it gets better.

Anyway, Stevenson apparently got a bug in his bagpipes to produce the definitive history of these two clubs and he's succeeded, after a fashion. His tome is not only exhaustive, it's exhausting. A couple of passages had me on the verge of tears, gasping and clawing the air like Halle Berry. I will go out on a limb and say that Stevenson's shall be the reigning account from now to eternity. Unfortunately the book's earnest, methodical style, and lack of chases, explosions or gunplay, makes it drag a little, but that can be fixed. Simply open it at random, read one of the anecdotes that Stevenson has mercifully sprinkled throughout and then think of Myers in his Fat Bastard role at the center of the scene while Cleese looks on.

Give it a try. Here, quoting the Beggar's Benison's own records, Stevenson describes the club's initiation ceremony: "The novice was 'prepared' in a closet by the recorder and two remembrancers 'causing him to propel his Penis until full erection'. He then came out of the closet, a fanfare being provided by 'four puffs of the Breath Horn,' and placed 'his Genitals on the Testing-Platter', which was covered with a folded white napkin. 'The Members and Knights two and two came round in a state of erection and touched the novice Penis to Penis.' A special glass with the order's insignia on it was then filled with port and a toast drunk to the new member, and, in a brief parody of a church service, he had to read aloud an 'amorous' passage from the Song of Solomon and comment on it. Investment with sash and medal followed, as the sovereign and other members intoned the benison or blessing: 'May Prick and Purse never fail you.'" All that's missing is Fat Bastard's lilting brogue chiming in with, "I'm dead sexy!" while Cleese meaningfully cocks an eyebrow.

Next Page: The wig was made from the pubic hair of Charles II's mistresses

• View blog reactions