It don't mean a thing, if you ain't got the swing

I see from today's Independent newspaper, that Ewan Morrison, a self-proclaimed Scottish Purveyor of Erudite Filth, claims to have spent a year 'swinging', while 'between' novels.

His 17 Point Guide to Swinging (and reading about the sexual exploits of other people is always something to be relished as you tuck into your bacon and eggs on a Saturday morning) is a handy 'cut out and keep' guide to the current state of sexual mores in the UK. Two websites set up to cater for this new breed of sexual experimenters both claim to have around 700,000 'members' (no pun intended) - although swinging being what it is, I imagine there is a lot of overlap between the membership.

Perhaps I need to underline at this point that neither Mrs Blunt nor myself have ever felt the need to 'swing'. She is a fine woman, someone to be savoured and not shared. Any marital needs I might have are most ably met by her, and those that are not are filled by the admirable dishes served up at the Light of Bengal restaurant.

Not for me the wanton pleasures of watching other people in the act of copulation. I will leave that to the Scottish players, for now.