I guess in the cold light of day, my naivety was quite extreme. Thinking we were just going to a late night bar for a night cap, I didn’t notice the image of an erotic dancer next to the bar’s sign. I did think paying to enter the establishment was a bit strange, but even as we bought our drinks upstairs, albeit at five star West End prices, the fact that all the women were basically dressed in erotic underwear, I took as a pleasing development in young person’s fashion. Perhaps oddly, it was the excessive congeniality of the women which made me think that this was not a “normal” bar, although I did, for one, ego boosting nano second, take one young lady’s smile and subsequent suggestion of a dance as genuine recognition of my undimished attractiveness, rather than the opening gambit of a business deal. Realising the unfortunate reality of the situation and in order to fend off the succession of invitations to enjoy myself, I resorted to the slightly absurd excuse of “I’m very sorry, but we’re only here by accident”. Acclimatising to the place, I indulged in some minor discourse asking one surprised but very attractive young lady if her father knew about all this. I didn’t actually hear a response, but rather than admit to being a bit Mutt & Jeff, I did enquire further (God knows why) of her father’s age and was alarmed (again, not sure why) to find out that he was actually seven years younger than me. Being slightly emboldened, I attempted a philosophical discussion with the next girl, to be told, and this is a direct quote “you are rubbish, you are” to which I responded “darling, I can only wholeheartedly agree with you”.