In the gay world, we've always understood the value of lust as a recreational pastime
We may tut and snigger all we like and take the moral high ground, but I think it's important to point out that lust can be a very life-affirming, exciting and therapeutic experience. We like to think that such reckless fumblings are the domain of teenagers at bus shelters but, praise the Lord, even pensioners have their urges. If a 67-year-old porker such as Prezza can still get a bit of action there's hope for us all.
Lust has always had bad press and been labelled sinful, indulgent and destructive, but here in the gay world, we've always understood its value as a recreational pastime. The fact is people are "up for it" more often than they like to let on. Offices, factories, building sites: sex between consenting adults makes the world go round. The Deputy Prime Minister got caught, that's all. It is embarrassing for him, particularly as he jeered so loudly at Tory MPs' sleazy antics a few years back. But he has clearly seen the light. I salute Prescott's escape from the stifling, dreary world of heterosexual monogamy.
Lust liberates all who give in to it and, although I hesitate to burden the reader with such an image, I once had hurried, yet unbridled sexual congress with an enthusiastic minion in a private area of the basement of the BBC in 1993. He wasn't even gay. My TV performance an hour later was all the better for it, and I do not hesitate to proclaim lustful liaisons a boon to all and sundry. A climax sharpens the mind and makes you glad to be alive. You know it's true. Tracey did us all a favour. If we want our ministers in tip-top condition, alert and vibrant, parliamentary secretaries must be allowed to get on with the job in hand, as it were. Little Britain's Sebastian is funny only because we suspect the storyline is true.
What strikes me most about these earthy revelations is the world they open up for Pauline Prescott. She has been waiting in the wings long enough. Now, at last, she can make her mark. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for this former hairdresser, and she must not let it pass her by.
Why should Tracey Temple pocket all the cash? Here's what you do, Pauline:
1) Accept all conciliatory presents of jewellery from your contrite husband.
2) Throw him out.
3) Contact Max Clifford without delay, sell your story and open negotiations for a tell-all book deal.
4) Get a part in Footballers' Wives. I think you've got the bone structure for it. Play your cards right and, who knows, you could be the next Anne Robinson.
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