As an array of condoms burst out of her handbag, a skimpily dressed Samantha flails about on her knees scrambling to retrieve her ribbed, strawberry-flavoured and extra-sensitive assortment of paraphernalia. The farcical turn of events betrays an air of menace as a baying crowd of robed and bearded men gather, lauding over her. Berating her immoral and obscene conduct the men are wild-eyed and intimidating. But our formidable heroine is not to be cowed. A personification of sexually liberated and emancipated Western feminism, she gathers together her belongings, gyrates suggestively and screams at the misogynists: ‘Yes, I have sex’.