Glenn Wilson is my favourite psychologist, a rare bird who has the bravery to tackle sexual issues head on. Certainly any psychologist who does not admit the elemental part sex plays in human psychology is not worthy of the title – but then, perhaps few are.

For example, most college psychology places today are filled by women, and these women go on to become professional psychologists; their interest in psychology being no doubt due to a yearning to understand themselves. But I can tell these women, free of charge, that their quest is absolutely hopeless, because their illogical behaviour only makes sense when it is set in the wider context of their relations with men. In the same way as no-one takes a sick doctor seriously – “Doctor, heal thyself” – a female psychologist must above all understand herself and in failing to do so inevitably becomes a sorry case.

But my monologue is supposed to be about Glenn Wilson. He was for a time widely quoted in the media, and the tabloids even paid for some nation-wide surveys by him, presumably because at the time they wished to gloss their prurient obsessions with a scientific veneer. Nowadays, of course, there’s no need: having broken down the barriers the prurience is blatantly obvious. During this time Wilson was asked to comment on Madonna’s book Sex and opined along the lines that “Well, she’s coming up to the menopause and having a last flaunt while she can.” Many people would have been dimly, subconsciously aware of it; some would have thought it; but hardly anyone would have actually said it, especially as an attributed quote to a mass-circulation newspaper. Moreover no-one would have been upset by this irrefutable truth except for one of the world’s most over-paid tarts who, frankly, has nothing to complain about. (Most copies of the book were eventually pulped.)

I don’t know all of Wilson’s work: I know that he wrote the text for an erotic (“soft porn”) book and I’ve studied a few of his papers; he was based at the Institute of Psychiatry in South London, an institution that had, when I visited it once, an atmosphere of the Alamo. That institution was founded by Hans Eysenck who for his politically incorrect views on hereditary intelligence was branded a “Nazi” by the liberal-totalitarians, which was pretty rich considering he was part-Jew. Eysenck was also caught up in the smear campaign against Sir Cyril Burt, when it was claimed that Burt’s experimental results had been like the geneticist Mendel’s, a little too perfect; while for their part the media hypocrites promote the most one-sided and specious arguments even a perceptive five-year-old can see through. See Rushton’s ‘Cyril Burt and the genetic IQ controversy’ for a summary of the extraordinary vindictiveness of that campaign, which no doubt still persists in the minds of those unaware of later developments.

Chiefly though, I know Wilson from a brief correspondence we had and his book The Great Sex Divide, from which these extracts are taken. The book has the distinction of being one of the items impounded by Dutch police when they raided my home in the centre of Amsterdam in August 1995. The selection of excerpts from the book may make Wilson seem rather more hardline than he actually is, but they follow the same quoting rules as set out in the introduction to Money’s work.