Passing on the Porn.

When I first got a new TV and became the excited recipient of Freeview channels, I explored the rarefied selection newly on offer and discovered that there were a few porn channels to be savoured late at night. I watched one (purely to serve my sense of curiosity, you understand) for about thirty seconds.

It consisted of some overly endowed thirty-something lying on a bed wearing only a pair of scanty knickers and talking rubbish to a dangerously inadequate bozo on the phone. Every so often she would wiggle her rear end and shake the mammaries with seductive intent. It was about as erotic as a five-day-old abandoned banana skin rotting in the gutter behind the gasworks on a wet and windy Wednesday night in Wigan, so I never bothered again.

Sometimes I’m glad I’m not young any more. When I was young I had to exercise and balance my tastes, my predilections, my standards and my strangenesses. It was very complicated at times.