Full rubber jacket

Contraception has, thankfully, changed over the centuries.

The women of previous generations had a choice when it came to contraception. They could opt for the unpredictable method of withdrawal, AKA the rhythm method. This had undocumented side effects which included palpitations, sweating and general nausea lasting for up to four weeks.

Or perhaps the more Puritan among them preferred abstention. Despite fewer pregnancies compared with the withdrawal method, this alternative remedy was known to result in localised frustration.

Condoms have been around for centuries. King Minus of Crete apparently used one, or rather his wife did - he'd been told his semen contained "scorpions and serpents" that killed his mistresses and using a condom protected his wife from his killer seed. Sounds like venereal disease to me.

Far from the discreet foil wrapped latex versions available today, the prototypical prophylactics were made of fish bladders and animal guts. Condoms made from animal intestines would have been made by butchers, who were experienced in the tensile strengths of organs. Oil-infused silk, tortoise shell and leather were also used. Some condoms were secured with a little ribbon to tie around the base of the penis, like a mini-stocking from the Georgian era.

By the end of the 19th century, condoms of vulcanised rubber (hence the name "rubbers") were made, and fitted. Just think about that for a moment - picture that shop and its fitting rooms. And what a job title... Wooden condoms gave rise to the term "woodie" as in a good stiff woodie. In fact condom etymology is all a bit cheeky-chappy, knock-your-mate-on-the-shoulder banter, with names like jimmy, a wetsuit, a nightcap. The French call it an English Raincoat and the English call it a French Letter.

For women, aside from the challenge of finding a man with a fish on his dick attractive, the contraceptive choices in history have been almost unanimously horrible.

Diaghrams were also called womb veils, presumably to make it more attractive to post WWII Britain. It was basically a genitalia guard, barring a sperms' access to the cervix. Women had to maintain their "sexy mood" while trying to get it in the right place. The process to correctly insert it, and any other internal contraceptive method or sanitary product, is generally detailed in a handy information leaflet. This is executed in basic line drawings except for the rather complicated Hurst-like bisection of what looks like a woman pleasuring herself. Oh, and according to this graphic art work, insertion will require at least one foot raised on a stool/the loo/the side of the bath.

The birth control pill came about because of research undertaken by an octogenarian. Margaret Sanger not only wrote the research, she also raised capital for the project. It's hard to remember sometimes that your parents and grandparents were young, passionate lovers once upon a time in their lives, just like you. As repulsive as it may be to contemplate your mum and dad together, I ask you this: would you want to be past experiencing the joy of sex when you're "old"?

I don't think I've ever encountered a piece of gynaecological paraphernalia that doesn't have a god-awful name.

You've your female condoms, FC1/Reality which seems a clever name to me, the ying~yang of the lovers' experiences.

FC1 promises speed, skill, wealth and excitement. The reality is that's probably not how your romantic encounter will be at all. The FC2, an improved version of the FC1, just sticks to the PR story. Reality is therefore presumably a given.

Be careful where and when you display female condoms, as they can cause anxiety in men if they think even for a moment it's for them to fill... these things are big. And it's urban myth that it feels like plunging into a 5p carrier bag. It's a barrier method, and that's a good thing.

Contraception methods seem to have their own individual cultures too.

Coils, particularly the copper coil, are universally macabre, giving rise to images of Dr Frankenstein's laboratory, the Industrial Revolution and old-fashioned church radiators. The version called Skyla had honest intentions about removing this perceived house of horrors reputation with its soft, hippy-type name, but it's a IUD. That in itself sounds frightening.

Implants, by which I do mean the insertion of between one and five rods under your skin, have also been given nasty names. Norplant, which is no longer marketed, sounds at best like a Scandinavian piece of architecture, or at worst like agricultural pesticide.

DepoProvera promises exoticism - pinks and oranges and turquoises clashing beautifully with smiling faces, dancing and beautiful writing. In reality, every few weeks you have to go to see your doctor and get stabbed in the arm with a needle full of drugs.

The patch option, Ortho Evra, sounds earth motherly and essential-oil calm. Have you ever tried to remove labels from the inside of flatpack furniture? It's hard work and you're invariably left with dark sticky marks where it's been. That's the contraceptive patch experience. Oh, and you remember how it felt having a plaster ripped off? That's what it's like when it catches on your clothes.

There's also a vaginal ring (with this ring, I thee shag) called Nuvaring. Frankly, it always brings the world vulva to mind, and that's not something I'd be comfortable saying out loud in general company.

Emergency contraception has been marketed with a bad-boy-turned-good singer meets line dancing class vibe, with the name Plan B-One Step. I think the lyrics to that go something like "She said, I told you boy I'm on the pill. She said, I told you boy it's oh, oh, oh, oh, oh." Then there's Ella (ella, ella, eh, eh, eh, ella, ella).

We're fortunate that contraception is so widely and easily available. That's not the case across the world and the limited access to condoms, for religious or any other reason, means that populations will continue to grow, diseases will spread and women (and men) of the 21st century are still living in the dark ages when it comes to freedom of choice.

Your life https://www.your-life.com/ offers international advice, information and resources. They believe it's your life, and your choice. Join their movement this World Contraception Day (September) and support baggies for life.