Still getting a buzz out of sex

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My friend didn’t actually hear the buzzing noise; probably because his ears are starting to go.

And anyway, he was focused on the task in hand. Namely, getting his wife and two teenage daughters off on holiday.

He’d got them out of the house, into the car, out of it and into the airport on time, which was nothing short of a miracle. Here he was, approaching the last leg; check-in.

For the 11th time he’d rifled through his bag to check he’d still got everyone’s boarding papers and passports. He was silently willing the check-in girl’s scales not to be weighing more than his little hand-held one had done at home.

But his Uri Geller-style gaze was suddenly shattered by the hissing of his eldest daughter. Inexplicably - though nothing new in that - she was going into histrionics at his side.

“Dad, dad, what’s IN that case? No, actually, don’t tell me,” she whispered, hand held to her forehead all Sarah Bernhardt.

“If it’s what I think it is... It is SO gross, I can’t go on this holiday.”

He followed her stare; his suitcase was visibly vibrating.

“Megan, he said, perplexed. “It’s my electric toothbrush. What did YOU think it was?”

And therein lies a question you the adult would actually rather not have the answer to. For if the offspring finds the thought of the parents having sex unbearable, it is equally so the other way around (no pun intended). You don’t want to know that they know about sex toys and stuff. Not when it only seems like two minutes since they binned Barbie.

It was all I could do not to ask my son how on earth he knew what Viagra looked like at the age of 17 when he rang me in shock from the bathroom of some elderly relatives having gone into their medicine cabinet in search of some paracetamol.

No sex please, you’re oldish and utterly embarrassing, is your kid’s view of your love life. I truly think they imagine that a pair of old people having sex is akin to rifling through that drawer in the kitchen; the one that’s full of broken bits and pieces and old paper bags and then shouting eureka when you’ve finally found what you were rummaging for.

What they forget, these perfectly honed young things, is that getting naked with someone who has clicky hips and soft, undulating folds of flesh is quite a comfort. Because your body is in the same state of decay.

One day, they too will find washboard abs and handspan waistlines a totally terrifying turn-off. But that day is a long, long way away and in the meantime, it’s best to avoid any derision and humiliation by keeping all trace of your adult sex life under wraps.

My BF thought so as her Saturday morning lie-in was rudely interrupted this weekend by the sound of her lad’s key turning in the front door.

She hadn’t even been up to anything but she flew into a panic; there was a strange, bulbous device by the side of her bed and her 15-year-old was about to tear upstairs, burst into the bedroom and give chapter and verse about the school footie match.

There was no way he would believe the gadget was actually a Tens machine, bought legitimately from a chemist so that she could massage her frozen shoulder. She leapt out of bed like Jessica Ennis approaching the hurdles.

This frenzied and rare bout of athleticism has now left her with a crick in the neck.

And the bugger is she can’t switch on her buzzing tens machine of a night until her son has finally Facebooked himself to sleep.