They would not leave these girls alone, even as one of them turned around and said, ‘Would you stop doing that, please, And there came the inevitable ‘We’re only having a laugh, babe, chill out.’

I tapped the tall, curly one on the back to ask him if he had a cigarette.

‘Nah, sorry, love.’ The other lads turned around and dogged me up from my feet to my face. Clearly, they didn’t like what they saw. Too old. Too much belly. Not a fuckable enough mouth. They started again on the young girls.

‘Is it cold inside the caves, do you know?’ I asked them in my Hilary twang. ‘I forgot to bring a cardy.’

The curly one turned again. ‘Dunno, never been before. You here alone?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, spinning him a line about being dumped before me and my girlfriends came out here. ‘They didn’t want to come today. Too hungover.’ I giggled, the way a Hilary would giggle. ‘I’m Hilary, by the way.’

‘Conan,’ Curly Hair replied, looking more vegetarian than barbarian. He pointed out the other two who afforded me the merest of nods before returning to their phones. ‘These are Trav and Ethan.’

‘Nice to meet you all. What is it, Lads on Tour?’

‘Summing like that hur hur hur,’ Conan chuckled, keeping one eye on the girls in front who’d moved as far as they could forward in the line. I wasn’t quite sure where to go next in my line of questioning but, the boys were happy as long as one of the following was happening:

1. I laughed at their jokes;
2. I flirted back;
3. My tits were on show at all times;
4. I asked them questions about themselves and agreed with any and all opinions they offered and
5. I paid them compliments about their clothes, muscles, and/or hair.

And so I did. It was exhausting but I did. And by the time we reached the cave entrance, the lads were fully focused on me and not the young girls.

Conan was the one who bit hardest on my fishing line – Trav had a girlfriend, whom he was constantly texting, and Ethan was too much of a pig-ignorant funt to pick up on any of my hints.

The caves themselves stank of hot meat. Conan and I exchanged relationship stories – he told me about his ‘nagging bitch ex-girlfriend Claire,’ while I regaled him with tales of Craig and his inability to keep his yoghurt squirter out of Lana. Our conversation then took a sour turn.

He leaned in. ‘Well, not being funny, but it might have been the weight, love.’

‘The weight?’