I spent the day with my daughter at a BDSM club.
Neither my daughter nor I were BD-ing, or SM-ing.
We were at another film shoot at which she does the hair and make-up for the stars. It was in the far east end of London. So there was no way I was letting her go all that way on her own for what is usually a very long day. Where do they find these places?
So, after about six hours of the cast singing and walking backwards to a track that I'll never recognise unless I hear it the wrong way round, we had a break. That was when she told me that ultimately the music video will be shown backwards with the lyrics, hopefully, making sense.
It was then that she informed me where we were. I hadn't looked since I was proof reading someone's book at the time. I like to think at my advanced age, that I've seen everything. Apparently not.
'They've got sex rooms in there.' She smiled, amused at the way I dropped my cup of tea.
'And they've got some really weird stuff in the back rooms.'
That was when I began to feel palpitations. Then sensing my discomfort, and with that inbuilt wickedness with which all teenage girls are born she turned and began to fix some singer's hair.
The last thing I heard as I fled outside were the words I'll never forget.
'Dad,' she enquired at the top of her voice, accompanied by an evil giggle, 'What's a glory hole?'
I'll never do this again - not ever.