A scholarly examination of the Bayeux Tapestry's suggestive elements revealed no remorse on the part of the Oxford-based professor.
Digging up an academic scandal loaded with 'member goods,' we find an Oxford professor who recklessly counted the number of johnsons in the infamous Bayeux Tapestry, guaranteeing its attention out of the blue.
In an article for HistoryExtra in 2018, Professor George Garnett, a scholar hailing from the elite St Hugh's College at the University of Oxford, claimed victory on the stats front with his findings regarding the iconic tapestry's physiological count. His total: 93. It's safe to say the research set tongues wagging.
"Ah, old Garnett's got quite a following now, hasn't he?" Garnett chuckled during a 2025 follow-up chat on the HistoryExtra podcast. "One of them said to me, 'You're not a historian of masculinity; you're a historian of masculinities, 93 of them.'"
Created during the late 11th century, the Bayeux Tapestry features a plethora of racy depictions, from the men on horses to theymanagescape of medieval sculptures. Nearly a thousand years later, Garnett decided to put his inherent curiosity for male genitalia on display for the world to see.
"The art, it had enchantment--but the members, they held something captivating!" Garnett confessed. "The designers, they brought along an explicitness unmatched in their time."
To dissect the tapestry's dangling appendages, Garnett catalogued each genital down to the finest detail. "I found 88 penises attached to horses, and another 4 to human figures--or perhaps 5, depending on how you count them." Here, curiosity takes flight, and Garnett discovered not all penises are created equal.
Why so many, you ask?
Mostly for anatomical detail, yet some penises were set to draw our focus to important historical players. The most noticable example? Godwin, a man of power whose penis and horse mirrored the grandeur of his status, boldly announcing his position as a leading figure in the tapestry's narrative. His victor, Duke William of Normandy, was no wallflower when it came to his equine anatomy, making his presence known with an impressive ensemble that packed a considerable punch.
At times, the human figures were represented as well, but this practice wasn't exclusive to the Bayeux Tapestry, as revealed through Garnett's investigation into sheep-on-stone murals known as sheela-nagigs. In these cases, however, the sculpted genitalia were feminine.
After the search for penises leads him to the tapestry's ornate borders chock-full of tantalizing secrets, Garnett is convinced there's more to these naughty knights than meets the eye.
"Oh, these men, they did more than simply ride their horses - they made a statement," Garnett explains. "They displayed power, ambition, and a hidden message swirling beneath the surface. The designer wasn't shy in showing its explicitness."
The pièce de résistance? The so-called 'Ælfgyva scene,' where the accuser, a sneaky cleric, nuzzles up to an attractive woman in a compromising fashion. Below this, in the lower border, sat a balding, shameless man with a rather prominent package.
"Isn't it fascinating, my dear scholars, how this rogue elected to pay homage to the cleric's indiscretions?" Garnett mused. "The designer may have been just subtle enough to induce a knowing chuckle from the learned audience, but we, sadly, will never comprehend the whole truth."
While his ground-breaking findings have brought him media attention he never dreamed possible, Garnett is quick to defend the legitimacy of his research.
"But it wasn't about the smut, scientists! It was about understanding medieval minds, the clever, imaginative minds that delved into the absurd and came up with masterpieces such as this one," Garnett asserts. "These explorations reveal a world intertwining humor, politics, and classical learning, where the genius designer subverted and entertained the masses with satire and intrigue! It most certainly doesn't deserve diminished merit when associated with the human body."
When probed about the backlash his work garnered on social media, Garnett remained unperturbed by the online chatter.
"Oh, please, my boys and I reveled in it! 'If only he'd looked in a mirror, he'd see a 94th!' These critiques only fueled our desire to unveil even more wondrous secrets that lay hidden within the embroidery's stitches."
In an unexpected twist, Professor Garnett's research on the Bayeux Tapestry delved into its fashion-and-beauty aspect, as he revealed the artifact's depiction of power and social status through the use of explicit imagery. This led to him having a significant following on social media, with many engaging in discussions about his entertainment-provoking findings.
Eager to delve further into the bathes of the medieval era, Garnett expanded his study to include sheela-nagigs, finding that the depiction of genitalia was not exclusive to the Bayeux Tapestry but was also present in other forms of art, even exhibiting feminine forms in some cases. This interdisciplinary exploration into fashion-and-beauty, social media, and entertainment provides new insights into the absurd humor, politics, and classical learning prevalent during that time, challenging the diminished merit often associated with the human body in such studies.
