They say power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but I don’t know.

That might be true for nineteen year old White House interns, or a drug-addled Marylin Monroe, but even if you combine the ruggedly handsome looks of Clive Palmer with the calm authority and sexy voice of Christopher Pyne, the chances of your position on the childcare committee lighting a fire under the mother of your children are slim…

.. to none.

Forget powdered rhino horn or tiger pizzle tea: For mothers of small children, there is only one sure fire aphrodisiac worth mentioning: Eight. Hours. Of. Pure. Unbroken. Sleep.

(Or so I’ve heard.)

People who’ve got themselves a piece of this nocturnal non-action describe being washed by waves of euphoria and well being. I reckon that’s better than anything your tired, cranky partner might be able to achieve with a cigar, a blue dress and the Leader of the Free World.

Face facts: Every time you lie in bed pretending not to hear a crying child, a female libido fairy dies. And you can’t bring her back by tapping together your red dancing shoes and saying “I believe in fairies”. I know. I’ve tried.

Sleep deprivation is a sign of ‘The Right Stuff’. Firemen do it. So do astronauts. Combine that with your nurturing, parental side, and you’re irresistible. Say it isn’t so. What’s more, the ‘Twilight’ movies are proof that chicks go nuts for pasty, undead men who don’t sleep at night.

So get up, be a man, pat that baby and let its mother sleep. And toughen up, princess.”

* To read a bit more about how Jack’s Libido Fairy took over the world check out ‘The Birth Of The Female Libido Fairy‘.