Sticky sex in sleepy Suffolk........

It must be true; I read it in the papers.

All this stuff about the papers concocting stories takes me back to 1970, when I was living in a small country town; you know the sort of place – a one horse town where the horse got up and left.

One of the Sundays – it may well have been the Screws of the World - decided to run a piece about the lubricious sex lives of the local yokels, with special reference to ‘treacle parties’. ‘The what?’ you may well ask.

The general idea was that couples on naughtiness bent would gather together in a convenient house of a Saturday night, strip off all their clothes, pour treacle all over each other and then lick it off. I decided to pursue this story (purely in the interests of research, you will understand). I found a reliable witness in the person of a local farmer’s wife who had been a Land Girl at the time.

Sure enough she confirmed the truth of it; she told me that she had attended many such parties. She was a free spirit who was quite capable of doing an impromptu striptease in the bar of the Farmer’s Arms of a Saturday night.

Except:

It was not Lyons Golden Syrup, which was on the ration.

It was maple syrup.

It was not 60’s swingers gingering up their wife swapping parties.

It all took place in 1942 when the Yanks came to town big time, not 1970.

And it was not local couples; it was young girls or wives, whose husbands were away in the services, doing their bit to improve morale amongst members of the USAAC.

But, as they say, never let the facts get in the way of a good story.