A full year before Futura books published Mary’s 1978 autobiography The Amazing Mary Millington, another ‘version’ of her incredible life also hit newsagents’ shelves. Whilst The Amazing Mary Millington was a curious muddle of half-truths, tall tales and downright lies, it did at least attempt to mirror some of the narrative of Mary’s life-story. The same cannot be said of the outlandish Sexploits of Mary Millington. Published in the spring of 1977, this 164-page pulp paperback was penned by Mary’s regular ghost writer Harry Knights. It was released as the first in a series of ‘X’-rated ‘photo readers’ under the Playbirds magazine umbrella. Ironically, whilst the text is indeed interspersed with pictures plundered from the pages of David Sullivan’s magazines, none actually feature Mary herself.
The Sexploits of Mary Millington begins with a short prologue by a certain ‘Harry Marle’ (one of Knights’ pseudonyms) in which he recounts how he first met ‘roving columnist’ Mary in David Sullivan’s offices in 1975. “The door suddenly burst open and in came this blonde tornado,” he writes. From this starting point, the book recounts Mary’s life in the countryside where she loses her virginity (age 17) to a boy called ‘Bob’ (no coincidence, as this was the real name of Mary’s husband), before moving to London to live in a flat with her fake ‘sister’ Doreen. From here she travels around the UK bedding her fans, starting off in Nottingham (familiar territory for Harry Knights, since he lived there) where she meets bisexual nymphomaniac Carol and several of her randy Midlands mates including Alan who boasts “a prick like a donkey” and Dave with “the best tongue in Notts”, before exploring the ‘superb scenery’ of Derbyshire.
Thereafter, the book continues with one improbable (and unintentionally hilarious) sexual encounter after another. Back in London, Mary fucks a ‘very dishy’ shop manager called Nigel whilst working in a boutique called Bambiss (not dissimilar to the real one Mary ran in Dorking), before departing to Yorkshire on a saucy camping trip, where she shags some willing Boy Scouts. Later, Mary accepts a part in a softcore sex comedy, filmed at a country house (“Make your own dialogue up!” says the director helpfully), but it doesn’t inspire her to pursue an acting career. Harry Knights even writes himself into the climax of the book when Mary seduces one of David Sullivan’s naive freelance magazine writers from out-of-town (“I daren’t give you his real name, so I’ll call him Rod” says a considerate Mary). As an example of Knights’ increasingly explicit imagination, The Sexploits of Mary Millington certainly beats Timothy Lea’s far tamer Confessions series hands down, but the book sadly doesn’t reveal any authentic insights into Mary’s life. For one-handed porn readers in 1977 it just perpetuated the Millington myth.
All words strictly © Simon Sheridan 2014-2015