Desire burns at all ages

PHWOAR! Cor! Cripes! Lawks a mercy! What a lot of somewhat uncomfortable and inconveniently situated rumpy-pumpy massively revving up our Sunday nights in the riveting Apple Tree Yard.

Isn’t it totally terrific to have Emily Watson’s 50-something heroine ripping off her Spanx in the throes of uncontrollable ardour?

The series should go a long way towards nipping in the bud the stupid but abiding notion that on your 45th birthday all carnal urges evaporate and the only remaining desires involve herbaceous borders, eating soft-centred chocolates and doddering around department stores searching for sensible shoes and serviceable trousers with elasticated waists.

How many more times do I have to spell it out?

Women’s wants are identical at 50, 60, 70 and, as long as we are writing a wish list, at 16. We want sex, love, excitement, attention, affection and cheap and expensive thrills.

Is that clear, men?