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Coventrypunter

Spectator Poll - Should It Be Illegal To Pay For Sex

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What are the Spectator going to do with the results of this poll?

 

As the link gives no pro's or con's for people.. Is to me a very simplistic question... Not going to be helpful in changing attitudes towards paying for sex!

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Nice lot of noes tho :-)

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Nice lot of noes tho :-)

 

The Speccie's fairly sound on this kind of subject...

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Currently 87% No...  :)

Sort of inevitable for a libertarian mag

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Currently 87% No...  :)

 

Now gone up to 89% No.

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It carries ads for wgs on the back page, its a middle class daily sport.

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It carries ads for wgs on the back page, its a middle class daily sport.

I wonder what Mag Pooter reads. My copy has ads for expensive watches on the back page. Tried in vain to find any wg ads.

 

Wouldn't be surprised to see an analytical article on the subject or one of their debates where a vote is taken at the start and finish.

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I trust that we have all signed up!!

 

If not         Why not??

Edited by porker paul

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I wonder what Mag Pooter reads. My copy has ads for expensive watches on the back page. Tried in vain to find any wg ads.

 

Wouldn't be surprised to see an analytical article on the subject or one of their debates where a vote is taken at the start and finish.

 

Here's an article they printed some ten years ago on "Hookers at Sports Day":

 

I first met Jilly ten years ago when we worked together on some newspaper or other. We kept in desultory touch and then, unexpectedly, I came across her at a birthday party in a crumbling cottage on the western edge of Cranborne Chase. She is a slight woman, somewhere in her forties now, tired eyes, pretty face unencumbered with make-up. On this occasion she was dressed in the country uniform of piecrust collar and velvet hair-band. It was a big party: lots of rural babble and too much to drink. After a while, I helped myself to food and found that I was sharing a table with Jilly and Mike, a man I took to be her husband. 

They’d spent the day with their daughter at her boarding school in Salisbury. ‘She’s coming up to 15,’ Jilly told me. ‘Doing well, lots of friends and she loves it there. The school has been the making of her. Debora’s from my first marriage, but Mike and I have been together for five years now.’ They farm 800 acres of mixed arable and livestock in East Devon. A prosperous, middle-class family, I thought. I imagined an ivy-covered stone farmhouse and meadows full of contented cows; beef for Sunday lunch and horses in the paddock. It was easy, sitting slightly drunk among all these country people having a party on a Saturday evening, to wallow in bucolic sentimentality and forget the troubles in the farming communities, the empty fields and derelict barns that I had driven past on the way from Marlborough. It was one of those evenings when the drink flowed and everyone seemed concerned only with what had happened at Newbury races that afternoon. 

By 11 o’clock the noise level was marginally less than riotous, and it was about this time that I discovered that Jilly had become a prostitute. She let it slip after I asked her how things had been for the last two years. ‘We lost everything to foot-and-mouth,’ she said. ‘They slaughtered all the livestock just to prevent contamination. The vets arrived, and within two days we had lost the lot in a contiguous cull. We felt that it was the beginning of the end. Mike’s family had farmed there for more than 100 years. He wanted to sell up, but there was no market, really, and we would have come out in the end with very little. The compensation was a long time coming and the bank was hard on us. There was no sympathy. There never is when it comes to money. My daughter had just gone to boarding school, we’d paid the fees and it was going to cost us £20,000 a year, which we could just about have managed before it all went wrong. If we had taken her out, she’d have lost all her friends and it would have set her back. The state education available in Devon and Dorset is not up to standard, in our opinion, and there was no way we could pay the fees from farm income. Anyway, farmers’ wives have always helped out when times are hard, and going on the game is more profitable than taking in washing. 

‘At the time, it seemed the only way we could carry on. Mike and I talked about it for days. Neither of us had ever done anything like this before. At the beginning we worked as a team. We would do sex displays and threesomes, and it was perhaps a way of making it easier for him to accept what was happening. Then, after a while, I just started doing it on my own.’ 

Jilly works from a small flat near the parish church in the centre of a bustling Dorset town. You phone her from a carpark, then press the bell by the front door and she lets you in. It’s a furnished flat with a rent of £150 a week, and, apart from her mobile, it is the only overhead she has. The bed is covered with towels, there are packets of condoms on the bedside table and a CD player on a chest of drawers. ‘I start them off in the sitting-room and progress to the bed,’ she says. ‘The rates are £140 an hour and it’s straightforward sex. I charge a high rate because I’m not interested in becoming part of the meat market. I’m also paying for a course in interior design so that I have a chance of earning a living for the future.’ 

She promotes her service on the Punternet website, the biggest of hundreds of sites advertising sex for sale in the UK and authoritative enough to be used by the police as a database. ‘It’s free. You file a report and they publish it. It’s meant to be written by a punter, but I get Mike to write them from time to time and it gives the rates, details of what I do, a brief description of my beautiful face and body, and a telephone number. I am trying to establish a list of regulars so that I can plan my income. I quite enjoy what I do, actually. I’ve met some interesting people. I don’t think that there is as much of a stigma associated with commercial sex as there once was because so many people are happy to pay. Girls can go on the game for a few years, and earn a bit of independence and a start in life. I have an accountant and I pay tax as a “therapist”. The Revenue probably know what I do, but they don’t seem to care as long as they get their return and a cheque on time.’ 

After Jilly had been on the game for a year or so, it became clear to her that she was not alone. ‘I began to hear from my clients that there were other women in the same position as me, farmers’ wives who have children at private school and were supplementing their income in the same way. I heard stories about a girl in Dorchester and another in Honiton, and I’d ask for a name or a number and get in touch. I went to meet a girl called Sherry in Winchester. She has a son at Bryanston and we sat and had a coffee and swapped notes. That’s how I met my accountant. He has three working girls on his books, and I don’t know about the arrangements he has with the others, but I pay him in kind and he seems quite happy.’ 

By the end of 2001, Jilly had been in contact with ten other women who were paying school fees in the same way. Five were married to farmers or farm managers, three were divorced. All had experienced hard times. ‘One girl has a child at Millfield, and there are others at Canford, Marlborough, St Mary’s in Calne, all being paid for by prostitution. Why not? Hundreds of nurses and students in the county are forced to supplement their income by selling sex. There’s a black humour among the group. One refers to her work as “drawing on the furry chequebook”. We call ourselves “Feefree” and we support each other,’ she says. ‘We’ve become a sort of self-help group.’ 

It’s hard to know what Jilly really feels about what she does. Is it just that going on the game has become a more acceptable career for the rural middle classes, or is it a singleminded attempt to maintain a way of life? There’s definitely a market. If you look at the websites such as Punternet and Captain 69, you will see that every town in Britain has its community of hookers. 

Three months ago, eight officers from Dorset police simultaneously raided Jilly’s flat and her home and took away books, mobiles, computers and every piece of paper they could find. ‘They arrested Mike; they say that he’s been living off immoral earnings,’ she told me. ‘But they haven’t charged him. They had no complaint about what I do. Working prostitutes tend to be solitary people who keep their lifestyles to themselves, and I don’t tell many of our friends what I do,’ she says. ‘But I really rely on the girls for advice. We’ve helped some of them with creating websites and dealing with tax. Now they help us with our problems over the arrest.’ 

Prostitution is a growth industry in Britain, and, according to the clubs and vice unit of the Metropolitan Police, has mushroomed in the countryside. Most rural towns and large villages have girls who are only a phone call away. The money is good, even if the living is not so easy. Jilly’s five mornings a week are bringing in enough to pay her daughter’s school fees and keep the family together until the farm can recover. It’s only human nature, after all. 

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I wonder what Mag Pooter reads. My copy has ads for expensive watches on the back page. Tried in vain to find any wg ads.

 

Wouldn't be surprised to see an analytical article on the subject or one of their debates where a vote is taken at the start and finish.

 

I've never seen any hooker ads in The Speccie either. But The Oldie DOES carry quite a few ads for naughty masseuses.

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Here's an article they printed some ten years ago on "Hookers at Sports Day":

 

I first met Jilly ten years ago when we worked together on some newspaper or other. We kept in desultory touch and then, unexpectedly, I came across her at a birthday party in a crumbling cottage on the western edge of Cranborne Chase. She is a slight woman, somewhere in her forties now, tired eyes, pretty face unencumbered with make-up. On this occasion she was dressed in the country uniform of piecrust collar and velvet hair-band. It was a big party: lots of rural babble and too much to drink. After a while, I helped myself to food and found that I was sharing a table with Jilly and Mike, a man I took to be her husband. 

They’d spent the day with their daughter at her boarding school in Salisbury. ‘She’s coming up to 15,’ Jilly told me. ‘Doing well, lots of friends and she loves it there. The school has been the making of her. Debora’s from my first marriage, but Mike and I have been together for five years now.’ They farm 800 acres of mixed arable and livestock in East Devon. A prosperous, middle-class family, I thought. I imagined an ivy-covered stone farmhouse and meadows full of contented cows; beef for Sunday lunch and horses in the paddock. It was easy, sitting slightly drunk among all these country people having a party on a Saturday evening, to wallow in bucolic sentimentality and forget the troubles in the farming communities, the empty fields and derelict barns that I had driven past on the way from Marlborough. It was one of those evenings when the drink flowed and everyone seemed concerned only with what had happened at Newbury races that afternoon. 

By 11 o’clock the noise level was marginally less than riotous, and it was about this time that I discovered that Jilly had become a prostitute. She let it slip after I asked her how things had been for the last two years. ‘We lost everything to foot-and-mouth,’ she said. ‘They slaughtered all the livestock just to prevent contamination. The vets arrived, and within two days we had lost the lot in a contiguous cull. We felt that it was the beginning of the end. Mike’s family had farmed there for more than 100 years. He wanted to sell up, but there was no market, really, and we would have come out in the end with very little. The compensation was a long time coming and the bank was hard on us. There was no sympathy. There never is when it comes to money. My daughter had just gone to boarding school, we’d paid the fees and it was going to cost us £20,000 a year, which we could just about have managed before it all went wrong. If we had taken her out, she’d have lost all her friends and it would have set her back. The state education available in Devon and Dorset is not up to standard, in our opinion, and there was no way we could pay the fees from farm income. Anyway, farmers’ wives have always helped out when times are hard, and going on the game is more profitable than taking in washing. 

‘At the time, it seemed the only way we could carry on. Mike and I talked about it for days. Neither of us had ever done anything like this before. At the beginning we worked as a team. We would do sex displays and threesomes, and it was perhaps a way of making it easier for him to accept what was happening. Then, after a while, I just started doing it on my own.’ 

Jilly works from a small flat near the parish church in the centre of a bustling Dorset town. You phone her from a carpark, then press the bell by the front door and she lets you in. It’s a furnished flat with a rent of £150 a week, and, apart from her mobile, it is the only overhead she has. The bed is covered with towels, there are packets of condoms on the bedside table and a CD player on a chest of drawers. ‘I start them off in the sitting-room and progress to the bed,’ she says. ‘The rates are £140 an hour and it’s straightforward sex. I charge a high rate because I’m not interested in becoming part of the meat market. I’m also paying for a course in interior design so that I have a chance of earning a living for the future.’ 

She promotes her service on the Punternet website, the biggest of hundreds of sites advertising sex for sale in the UK and authoritative enough to be used by the police as a database. ‘It’s free. You file a report and they publish it. It’s meant to be written by a punter, but I get Mike to write them from time to time and it gives the rates, details of what I do, a brief description of my beautiful face and body, and a telephone number. I am trying to establish a list of regulars so that I can plan my income. I quite enjoy what I do, actually. I’ve met some interesting people. I don’t think that there is as much of a stigma associated with commercial sex as there once was because so many people are happy to pay. Girls can go on the game for a few years, and earn a bit of independence and a start in life. I have an accountant and I pay tax as a “therapist”. The Revenue probably know what I do, but they don’t seem to care as long as they get their return and a cheque on time.’ 

After Jilly had been on the game for a year or so, it became clear to her that she was not alone. ‘I began to hear from my clients that there were other women in the same position as me, farmers’ wives who have children at private school and were supplementing their income in the same way. I heard stories about a girl in Dorchester and another in Honiton, and I’d ask for a name or a number and get in touch. I went to meet a girl called Sherry in Winchester. She has a son at Bryanston and we sat and had a coffee and swapped notes. That’s how I met my accountant. He has three working girls on his books, and I don’t know about the arrangements he has with the others, but I pay him in kind and he seems quite happy.’ 

By the end of 2001, Jilly had been in contact with ten other women who were paying school fees in the same way. Five were married to farmers or farm managers, three were divorced. All had experienced hard times. ‘One girl has a child at Millfield, and there are others at Canford, Marlborough, St Mary’s in Calne, all being paid for by prostitution. Why not? Hundreds of nurses and students in the county are forced to supplement their income by selling sex. There’s a black humour among the group. One refers to her work as “drawing on the furry chequebook”. We call ourselves “Feefree” and we support each other,’ she says. ‘We’ve become a sort of self-help group.’ 

It’s hard to know what Jilly really feels about what she does. Is it just that going on the game has become a more acceptable career for the rural middle classes, or is it a singleminded attempt to maintain a way of life? There’s definitely a market. If you look at the websites such as Punternet and Captain 69, you will see that every town in Britain has its community of hookers. 

Three months ago, eight officers from Dorset police simultaneously raided Jilly’s flat and her home and took away books, mobiles, computers and every piece of paper they could find. ‘They arrested Mike; they say that he’s been living off immoral earnings,’ she told me. ‘But they haven’t charged him. They had no complaint about what I do. Working prostitutes tend to be solitary people who keep their lifestyles to themselves, and I don’t tell many of our friends what I do,’ she says. ‘But I really rely on the girls for advice. We’ve helped some of them with creating websites and dealing with tax. Now they help us with our problems over the arrest.’ 

Prostitution is a growth industry in Britain, and, according to the clubs and vice unit of the Metropolitan Police, has mushroomed in the countryside. Most rural towns and large villages have girls who are only a phone call away. The money is good, even if the living is not so easy. Jilly’s five mornings a week are bringing in enough to pay her daughter’s school fees and keep the family together until the farm can recover. It’s only human nature, after all. 

YAY punternet,....keeping kids in new shoes and decent schools since 1999  ^_^. I wonder what Jilly is doing now

Edited by Chloe Kisses
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YAY punternet,....keeping kids in new shoes and decent schools since 1999  ^_^. I wonder what Jilly is doing now

Someone with a moniker very like hers was posting up till a couple of months ago.

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I find it hard to believe given its contribution to the GDP that selling sex will ever made illegal - thank heavens - plus I am certain many politicians, law makers and civil servants enjoy just these pleasures and whilst lip service may be given to all manner of reforms etc - the Swedish model etc - it is just that lip service to placate a certain kind of voter.

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I don't think it would have any contribution to GDP since all sales would be off books

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I don't think it would have any contribution to GDP since all sales would be off books

there are provisions in the worldwide standards to estimate and include activities like prostitution and drug dealing in GDP calcs.

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Not all sales are "off books", however I agree that it could be difficult to quantify as many certainly will be.

Edited by Strawberry

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Not all sales are "off books", however I agree that it could be difficult to quantify as many certainly will be.

yes but i imagine different girls put a different 'business' down on their tax return, making good analysis difficult.

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I trust that we have all signed up!!

 

If not         Why not??

I can't see where I might sign up.

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I can't see where I might sign up.

 

Article was last November. Voting probably closed now

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I didn't realise punternet was that big, how come I hadn't heard of it before?

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