So THAT’S why they call it a passion wagon!

AT THE end of the war, I was with the Phyllis Dixey Show. Phyllis was known as the ‘Queen of Striptease’ and her revues were dubbed peek-a-boo shows.

Her girls used to go to the roof of the Whitehall Theatre, just a stone’s throw from Buckingham Palace, and sunbathe topless — apart from a couple of half-crown coins to save their nipples from sunburn. I used to go up there and call out, ‘Anybody got any change?’ but none of them fell for it.

It wasn’t till a couple of years later when I was 19 that I lost my virginity, in Carlisle, on the back seat of a car. We were doing a summer season but takings were dreadful, and after eight weeks several of us were given our cards. I’d fancied one of the dancers, a girl of about my age, for weeks, and when I heard she was leaving, too, I plucked up the courage to ask her out.

After a few drinks, I offered to drive her home. Naturally we felt emotional about being sacked, and spent a long time comforting each other.

Cars are not the best place for love-making. But despite the cramped circumstances, we did each other a bit of good . . . and if Doris is reading this, I hope she’ll agree with me.