Other people's orgasms

My neighbour has a good sex life.

Isn't that nice.

Many times a week she makes love.

I make tea.

I probably make more tea than she makes love. Which is probably just as well since if she matched me cup for f**k (or is that f**k for cup?) she'd probably run out of juices and the friction would be a fire hazard.

Not that she doesn't make tea of course, I'm sure she does. After all, she's British. The difference is that whilst I potter into the kitchenette and lean on the counter watching 'Come Dine With Me' whilst I wait for the kettle to boil, she hobbles into hers with legs wobbling like laundry in a light breeze following a sugar-wall shaking petite mort.

You could be forgiven for thinking I am envious, however I assure you that I am not. I've seen them. It's just difficult to hear their moans and groans as anything other than moaned gloats. "Oh yeah" he shouts, "yeeesssss!" she squeals, but all I hear is "ha ha, we're doing the sex, aren't we great, look at you alone in bed reading your Danny Wallace book and chuckling into your fat. You're so sad and dull. We judge you with our sexy time". Maybe things would be different if my bedroom encounters didn't consist of two minutes of fumbling, five of apologising and then an awkward wait for a cab.

That, incidentally, was a joke. You see it's not like my flat doesn't have its moments. Only last night in fact the rutters were busily writhing around in their brilliant sex, and approximately twelve feet away I too was making my own "ooh" noises. Sadly mine formed the opening of the rather less interesting statement "ooh, 'The Apprentice' is on next week".

I then texted this news to a friend and put my headphones back on.