You know how there are certain kinds of televisual stuff that you watch from behind your hands. You might occasionally peek between your fingers to see if it is really so awful before going ‘Errrgh!’ and then back to covering the eyes. For me this would include the carrying out of cosmetic surgery, people doing disgusting things like eating worms (or worse) or sticking skewers through their body parts, the sight of David Blaine’s saturated and bloated hands, scenes of torture whether fake or not, Noel Edmonds, Boyzone - all the usual stuff. Last night I added a new one to the list and it was a mixture of visual and aural. I can just about cope with the sight of a morbidly obese person, too fat for any form of clothing apart from a tarpaulin. I can look at an unfortunate being so huge that they need a separate bed for their stomach. I can look on that with a mixture of fear, horror and pity. But what I cannot do is look at a 56 stone woman whose belly is about the same size and weight as my entire body while listening to her explain in graphic detail how she manages to have sex. This is a woman with so much flesh on her that any attempt to have sex with her would be more of an expedition than an enterprise.
I just sat there with my eyes covered singing, “La di da, la di da. Turn it off. Turn it off!”