The sorry saga of Bunnie’s brothel

Dorset. Lovely county, especially in the summer. Bosky and beachy and so many unique attractions: Corfe Castle, Durdle Door, Bunnie’s Ranch…

Oh, you haven’t heard of Bunnie’s? Yes, it sounds like a delightful petting farm and, in a manner of speaking, it is all about petting, heavily, but it’s not really what you’d call a family day out. More a quick in and out.

Bunnie’s Ranch is a brothel in the village of Charminster, outside Bournemouth. I’m not even sure it’s open for business any more after its cover was blown (sorry, Vicar) when a customer died of a heart attack. In one respect, that’s possibly the ultimate gone-to-heaven endorsement of any bordello, but it’s also sad and seedy. Several of the sex workers fled the building while the madam, a whitehaired 70-year-old called Christy Norman, tried in vain to resuscitate the client.

She called 999 and the paramedics rushed to the scene, but he could not be saved. When police arrived, they found sex toys and an S&M harness bolted to the ceiling and, once they’d established it wasn’t the set of a reality TV show, they arrested her.

Norman, who looks more like a charity shop manager or a relief (stop it) receptionist than a Cynthia Payne suburban sexpot, insisted she was just the cleaner.

But officers discovered she had kept detailed records of which services the women offered, the dates they saw clients, costings (at £40 for 15 minutes, these girls earn more than an emergency plumber), and, interestingly, the nationality of the punters.

Perhaps she should have claimed to be working undercover for the UK Border Agency, but either way a court found her guilty, ordered her to pay £400 in costs and gave her a (sorry, but everything sounds ribald and sniggery in this context) conditional discharge.

So strike Bunnie’s Ranch from your holiday plans – they’re not at it like rabbits any more.