My year as a sex maniac, by Spectator critic who sparked fury by lusting over a blonde don in Cambridge

He’s the man who, last week, suddenly became the number one hate figure for countless women across the country.

Writer Lloyd Evans caused a stir by admitting he had lost control of his “lunatic libido” after attending a lecture by “blonde” professor Lea Ypi in Cambridge and then paying for sex in a massage parlour.

Although the 60-year-old responded to the furore yesterday by saying: “I don’t feel like a huge sexual pervert”, The Mail on Sunday can reveal that three years ago he wrote a novella called My Year As A Sex Maniac. .

The autobiographical work was based on his time at The Spectator, the magazine where he has a column and where the offensive article was published last week.

The 99-page sexual fantasy is a fascinating insight into his attitudes toward women and sex.

Evans writes how, when he was 37, he confessed to his on-again, off-again girlfriend ‘Emma’ that he had ‘sex on the brain’.

‘I told him that every day, all day long, I walk down the street and I like women. All over the place. I told her how painful it was to be tormented by beautiful women.

Significantly, much of My Year as a Sex Maniac (subtitled Obsession, Angst and Happiness) takes place around The Spectator’s then office in Bloomsbury, London.

Evans describes a woman named “Kimberly” as “young, beautiful and cold.”

In real life, the magazine’s editor at the time was California-born Kimberly Fortier, who had a number of suitors, including Spectator contributor Simon Hoggart (with a long career working for The Guardian) and Labor politician David Blunkett, who resigned as Home Secretary. in 2004, when it emerged that she had fast-tracked her nanny’s visa application. Another columnist had a sexual relationship with the magazine’s receptionist.

Evans’ fantasy exposes the underbelly of bohemian life in a magazine that to the outside world was a conservative and altruistic political publication. This focus of intrigue and infidelity, casual affairs and sexual antics (sometimes breathlessly reported in the now-defunct tabloid News of the World) led to the magazine being nicknamed The Sextator.

In fact, such was the public interest in these events that Evans co-wrote a West End farce, Who’s the Dad?, about what happened. At the time it was described as “a lot of shit in the closets.” Evans’s own ‘sexual escapade’ with ‘Emma’, recorded in his novel, is equally priapic.

In their apartment, the couple has sex, described by Evans in great, forensic detail. This sets the tone of the book. Much of which is not for the faint-hearted.

“My tongue was a little sore and it took me about five minutes,” she writes of one moment of sexual interaction, which she later describes as a “mechanical task with nothing to do but look at the clock.”

The memoir appears to be the legacy of a doomed love story between a lovestruck Evans and a real-life Emma. He later married Celia Pilkington, archivist at London’s Inner Temple, although they have since separated.

In his fantasy, Evans wrote that, after Emma, ​​he married a woman he described as “pragmatic, fun, not imaginative.” It remains a mystery why Evans, now single, published his book more than 20 years after the events it focuses on.

In his biography on Amazon, where his book is available, Evans writes that while he “has won awards as a poet and playwright,” he “needs money as well as awards”; although it is unlikely that around 140,000 will be found on Amazon’s bestseller list. He has earned a lot from royalties.

This weekend, Evans remains unrepentant about writing about his “lunatic libido”, telling the WhatsNew2Day yesterday that his critics should “come out of the basement and get some action, even if they have to pay for it”.

A sentiment expressed in the opening pages of Sex Maniac: “What’s the point of being single if you can’t enjoy its wildest, most scandalous aspects?”