It may have taken me nearly 38 years to realise but the penny has finally dropped that I am not one of the ‘in crowd’.
This admission will not surprise anybody who knows me, especially those who have seen me ‘dance’ but I have happily rubbed along for the past three-and-a-half decades safe in the knowledge that I possess cutting edge qualities.
It doesn’t matter that first my mum, then my wife have chosen all of my clothes except the Frankie Howerd t-shirt which I wore with pride for three years in the early 1990s until it mysteriously spontaneously self-combusted. But my self-delusion lasted even longer than the Robbie Williams Tiger underpants I bought 13 years ago, that was until I discovered that I appear to be one of the few people who has missed out completely on the ‘sexting’. I always thought sending rude pictures of one’s self was something only practised by hormone-packed, skinny jean wearing teenagers, until it transpired that some more mature folk send mucky pictures of themselves as often as you and I enjoy a cup of tea and a HobNob.
Why do it? Because there is no law stopping them as long as it is between consenting adults and there aren’t any farmyard animals involved and I suppose anybody who asks that question will never get it.
If I were to send a saucy picture of myself to any poor soul my mobile phone would shatter into a million pieces and the network would have wished that it had never been born. But, if by some miracle the grisly image made it to its intended recipient I would be forever worried the image would end up somewhere it shouldn’t, i.e the public domain. That is why the actions of the ever growing number of public figures who have been caught dangling their unmentionables in cyberspace are unfathomable to Mr and Mrs Ordinary. Why run the risk of public humiliation like the former Tory minister Brooks Newmark who has twice been exposed for, um, exposing himself in intimate pictures in recent weeks?
We will probably never know his true motivation, maybe he didn’t think anybody knew who he was, which we didn’t until he dropped his paisley pyjama pants for the camera. Now his political career is in tatters.
There are others who have fallen foul of unscrupulous ex-partners, who are quite rightly going to face tougher penalties thanks to a proposed change in the law, but why take the chance?
If sending risque photographs is the preserve of the in crowd then I am happy to keep on enjoying life in the slow lane.