Confessions of a Window Cleaner


I haven’t seen ‘Confessions of a Window Cleaner’ as I am not a mackintosh-wearing reprobate existing exclusively in the late 1960s. It would be unfair not to review it though.

Pornography (from the Anglo-Saxon ‘Porno-’ , meaning ‘squeaky-grunts’, and ‘-graphy’, meaning ‘like a graph’) is, for many people, a little too literal and relentless. Their libidos can be – fruitfully, I think – compared to fires that cannot be lit by a nonchalant flick of a stiff match on a bulging stone, nor indeed by the jackhammer-like pumping of flint on pert pebble. Rather, the fire of their physical passion can only be ignited by cockney horseplay and speeded up scenes in which pale, malformed English people pull their pants up and down repeatedly while bouncing on one another in a manner not conducive to effective or pleasurable sexual intercourse.

Like the Confessions of St Augustine, on which this film is based, ‘Confessions of a Window Cleaner’ is a treasure trove of English 1960s slang. ‘Come on love, let’s have a bonk on your ration book and a custard cream’; ‘I haven’t seen such a pair of whammers since Edith Neddynoshers did the Ha’penny Hop at the Village Fete last year’; ‘I had a rustle in her rotpocket and pulled out an angry pike’ – these are just a few of the exotic utterances voiced by the characters of this film.

Their courting practices are equally alien and would no doubt make for an interesting, if perhaps uninteresting, anthropological study. Typically the male will ascend a 40-storey tower block in order to show his prowess. As he shimmies up the edifice, he peruses the females who display themselves in each of the windows. When he has selected an appropriate mate, eliminating what Levi Strauss termed the ‘wizened sag-monkeys’ and the ‘crone-faced dry-humps’, he then reveals his tender, moistened sponge and proceeds to press it against the glass in order to give his quarry a good look. At this point the prospective mate will either scream and shake a rolling pin, or fiddle suggestively with any loose pieces of fabric hanging from her gaudy, nylon-based garments. In the case of the latter, the male will then enter the building, address the female with a ceremonial witticism (e.g. ‘Knickers, knackers, knockers, ain’t you a sight for sore thighs!’) and then propose coitus.

In short, this film will appeal to dialectologists, anthropologists, and people who can only be turned on by cockney pratfalls. Do you fall into any of these categories? If so: bonzer. If not: tough grits. You may however be interested in ‘Confessions of an Agoraphobic Reviewer’ which is due for imminent release. I know I am.


4 Responses to “Confessions of a Window Cleaner”

  1. Banjo Fett Says:


  2. john le baptiste Says:

    [puts right hand in left elbow pit] [rises left hand in a clenched fist] [shakes left fist in short movements] [adopts Steptoe gurn]: ‘WURRRRGHH. CORRRR!’

  3. Banjo Fett Says:

    *pings nearby colleague’s bra strap*

    Hwah! Hwah! Hwah!

    *collects P45*

  4. john le baptiste Says:

    Chortle. Does the P in P45 stand for Perv or for Ping?

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