Position 1 An '11'. Both performers lie on their backs, right on the very outer edges of their respective sides of the bed. A bit amateurish, frankly. For a start, you have nowhere to wriggle away to in an extra burst of fury, which limits your options terribly - only the most inexperienced performer would allow themselves, right from the off, to take up a position from where they're unable to raise the stakes at all. Worse still, roles are poorly defined - it's easy to forget whether you're meant to be pointedly waiting for an apology or mutely declaring your intention not to apologise this time. More often than not, after under an hour of uninspiring action, you'll end up with the 'I'm not in a mood, you're the one who's in a mood'/'No, I'm not. You are, I'm not in a mood at all,' exchange and everything crumbles into a fiasco.
  Position 2
Think of it as a 'K'. One person is in the standard half-'X' shape (facing away) and the other is a rigid 'I'; lying supine, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Here you lose points for style if the 'I' person doesn't let out frequent sighs and snorts in an attempt to get the Half-'X'-er to ask, 'Gfff... What is it?'
  Position 3 A position in which one performer is so utterly incensed by the fact that the other could have done that, that it requires spilling over into the third dimension. The vehemently livid party will remain sitting upright in bed, with the light on, glaring fixedly at some point in space and grinding her teeth (occasionally, she may ad lib a few glances down across at her partner, before expelling air from her nose sharply, shaking her head in furious astonishment and turning away again). While this is going on, the performer who did that thing positions himself on his side, facing away, curled into a ball and, basically, tries to keep his nerve.
  Position 4 A full 'X' shape, each artiste forming one side of the letter. It's not quite an 'X', though, because the performers are not joined in the middle. That would require bottoms to be touching. None of the Angry Positions allow for any touching of body parts, that would completely ruin them. Sounds are certainly allowed, and in some positions they're pretty much mandatory. No touching, though, ever. The 'X' position is a declaration that both performers are convinced that they have God on their side and is quite often accompanied by abrupt, snatching attempts to achieve duvet hegemony and aggressive, warning displays of pillow straightening.
The riskiest of all the Angry Positions; in 2001 alone, this position caused no less than 217,008 working days to be lost and cost British industry more than intestinal problems and pension fund fraud combined. Angry Position Five requires that one performer march wordlessly out of the bedroom, carrying a pillow. A position is taken up elsewhere in the house. It is most important (and many unpracticed performers fall down here) to relocate to a simply awful site - at the very least a desperately uncomfortable sofa but, ideally, under a thin towel on the hard, freezing floor of the bathroom. The point, you see, is martyrdom. If the performer who departed has judged guilt levels correctly, then they will be rescued before too long by their miserably penitent partner. However, it they have been over-optimistic, they are stuck sleeping there; additionally carrying the galling knowledge that their partner is spread-eagled in glorious opulence across the entire bed. Also, there's a very good chance that when they wake up in the morning their neck will be locked at 30 degrees and nothing but a cold, fizzing sensation remains where their legs used to be.

All text Mil Millington. Images Hodder & Stoughton, probably. Certainly some woman on the 16th floor at Euston Road spent an entire afternoon doing them on a PC stuck between a blank wall and a filing cabinet so, in theory, I suppose that means the pics belong to Hodder. In reality, though, I assume Hodder aren't really that fussed - especially as I'm now with Orion. In fact, why don't you go there and ask them? Eh? As you're obviously so obsessed by it. 338 Euston Road, London NW1 3BH. March into the lobby, sit on the floor, and tell them you refuse to move until you get answers.

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