like watching a trainwreck

A former colleague of mine had a moonlighting job acting as guide-cum-chaperone-cum-cultural interpreter to American high school bands and majorette corps who march in London's New Year's Day parade. I'm not sure who goes to see that parade and if it's shown on tv it's up in the nosebleed channels on some open access programming. But American high school students pay to march in London - so there's a parade.

This colleague often had to deal with American parents and chaperones who were a bit shocked by the more open, permissive culture of Britain. For example, one came to her complaining of the unrelenting pornography on the hotel tv and could they please have the channel blocked?

Upon investigation it was discovered it was one of the regular old, free-to-air network channels - good old Channel 4 with a little late night, educational, culturally enlightening documentary. And no - since it was a "terrestrial" channel - it could not be blocked. This stuff was being broadcast into every home in the land.

I had to admit I had some sympathy with the American parent. After all, on what other channel can you find a man talking openly about his love for his pony (as I have watched - rapt)? And I don't mean like a little girl's love for her pony. Not at all.

Of course Channel 4 doesn't always have stuff like that on, but sometimes it does and tonight it did. It was all about the Virgin School - where a group of middle aged women (often twice the age of their clientele) help men become - well, not virgins. They've all got certificates in something called "sexual grounding", so I'm sure it's all totally legit. Did I mention that this school was located, rather conveniently, in Amsterdam?

This particular programme was focusing on James, 26, from Kent who was their first English client and who had gone over to Holland to learn how not to be a virgin. It was cringe, after cringe after cringe as young James shopped with his grandmother for new underwear for his course (he told her it was a confidence building course). The Vol-in-Law was working on the laptop and said "I'm averting my eyes."

I did not turn away when a woman over twice his age ( and certified in sexual grounding) was encouraging him to touch her wherever he might. I said "I can't, it's like a watching a trainwreck." But indeed even I had to turn away when the role play turned to a school reunion and James was confessing his undying love to the intimacy therapist (playing some old crush of his) within moments of asking her onto the dance floor.

Channel changed. Even the hardiest of us have to turn away when the carnage gets too bloody.