Several years ago I overheard a conversation on the radio about orgies while I was driving to the local garden fete. The interviewee was a well-known writer and minor celebrity who had attained a certain notoriety for her outspoken views on sex. I believe she's largely forgotten now and for the life of me I can't remember her name. I do recall that at the time she was middle-aged and rather overweight.
The interviewer asked her if, as well as writing about them, she had ever actually been to an orgy.
"Oh yes, I've been to several."
"Really? And, er, did you indulge?"
"I see. You write about these things but you don't actually approve of them."
"Oh I approve all right. But the trouble with orgies is that people are only interested in the youngest ones there."
I pictured her sitting alone on a couch at the orgy dressed only in her faded pink underwear, a fag dangling forlornly from her lips, her fleshy knees knocking in the draught. She is gazing across to the far corner of the room where a slavering scrum has formed over the giggling, wriggling body of the hosts' youngest daughter.
Maybe there's something to be said for leading a sheltered life after all.