Sex sex sex! That’s all anyone thinks of these days. It’s just sex sex sex!
Look at that young woman there, walking down the street. She’s dressed to the nines. All in the latest fashion. It’s nothing but sex sex sex. That’s all she’s thinking about. She dresses like that because she has sex on the brain.
It never used to be like that. And look at that man there. Barely eighteen, and you can tell by the way he licks his ice cream as he walks along that he’s thinking of nothing but sex. SEX! That’s all he ever thinks of.
And all these people out doing their shopping. Hundreds and hundreds of people. Every one of them the result of sex. It’s not as if each one of them was conceived with just one go. Oh no! There were dozens of attempts before most of them were conceived. The world is obsessed with sex sex sex.
Every one, just EVERY ONE, is harbouring little secret sexual fantasies. You can feel it. The air is heavy with all this testosterone and oestrogen and all that. I can smell it. I don’t know how many times, even this morning, I’ve been stripped naked by people’s eyes.
GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER you stinky oversexed generation of sex- sex- sex-starved nymphomaniacs. The modern generation. In all my eighty-seven years it seems to get worse by the year.
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