In the 1968 - yes, that long ago, before my Richie was born, even - there was a tv play called The Year of the Sex Olympics - a fururistic drama, (!) in which the participants had sex on tv, and the hoi-polloi - tautology, tautology! - sat at home, watching them, and didn't have sex at all - voted for the best couple.
Being 1968 all you got to see was a lot of writhing silkily-clad bodies, lots of leg, and the occasional orgasmic expression. It was laughably awful. Now, of course, it's acclaimed as 'prescient and terrifying' - why do I not remember it being in any way remarkable, except for the title?
This story has nothing to do with that, at all, except that I stole the title.:oD
This is the second chapter of part eight of The Seven Pillows of Wisdom - for anyone interested. :D
( Read On )