Ashley Horner’s celebration of erotic obsession sees young lovers Noon (Nancy Trotter Landry) and Manchester (Liam Browne) not only indulging in a great deal of graphic sex but also trying to preserve their sexual feelings through photography and a recorded ‘orgasm diary’, scenes depicted with an unselfconscious spontaneity that’s unusual for a low-budget British film.

Lots of interesting additions came in this week, with the Hanif Kureishi-scripted gay love story My Beautiful Laundrette topping the votes.

With the cheeky antics of Carry On Camping, the boundary-pushing explicitness of 9 Songs, and Black Narcissus’s nuns in the Himalayas all vying for space in the top 10 this week, it goes to show that the erotic British film comes in many different forms.

Or indeed by the effect that it had on its audience?

After all, it’s arguable that the appeal of 1940s Gainsborough melodramas was far more genuinely erotic than that of the inexplicably long-running Come Play with Me (1977) and its fusion of ancient music-hall routines with only very mildly titillating nudity.

When the British Board of Film Censors (as was) agreed to pass a serious documentary about naturism in the mid-1950s, this gave an immediate green light to numerous similar “documentaries’ by shamelessly opportunist producers who took care to adhere to BBFC guidelines (“Breasts and buttocks, but not genitalia [would be accepted] provided that the setting was recognisable as a nudist camp or nature reserve”). Lawrence creations bookended the 1960s: the obscenity trial of Lady Chatterley’s Lover in 1963 (the year in which Philip Larkin alleged that sexual intercourse began) and the international hit that Ken Russell made of Women in Love, thanks not least to one of the most notorious scenes in all British cinema, in which Alan Bates and Oliver Reed engage in full-frontally naked wrestling on a rug in front of an open fire to underscore their characters’ latent homoeroticism.

This effort by photographer-turned-filmmaker George Harrison Marks came relatively late in the cycle, but retains a fond following thanks to its catchy title and a genuinely charming performance by model-turned-actor Pamela Green. But there was also a powerful sensuality emanating from Glenda Jackson’s Oscar-winning performance as the wayward Gudrun.

When Peter Strickland was asked about his influences on The Duke of Burgundy, he unsurprisingly trotted out a parade of what used to be called “continental” filmmakers: Walerian Borowczyk, Tinto Brass, Luis Buñuel, Claude Chabrol, Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Jesús Franco. Yes, the 1980s sitcom Terry and June, although decidedly not for its (nonexistent) erotic content.

François Truffaut notoriously suggested to Alfred Hitchcock that there is a certain incompatibility between the terms ‘British’ and ‘cinema’.

“I’m obviously interested in pornography”, Peter Greenaway admitted in 1985, and 10 years later he made his most overtly erotic film, loosely inspired by the famous ‘pillow book’ by 10th/11th-century Japanese lady-in-waiting Sei Shōnagon.