I instantly felt dowdy and underdressed in my old olive-green speedo with questionable elastic. I’d always loved how the colour set off my red hair, but I hadn’t noticed until now that the cossie had lost its elasticity – much like my marriage, which I also hadn’t noticed had faded and sagged. Clearly ‘costume drama’ isn’t a description of a BBC series with bustles and bonnets, but indecision over whether I was too old to buy a fashionable bikini from the onboard boutique. No other female afloat on HMAS Hedonism seemed to share my insecurities. I longed to be more like them, but right now my confidence level was so low I’d need a pressurised mini-sub to locate it.

By now, twenty or so eager young male contestants had stampeded to the makeshift stage. Clad in bathers tight enough to reveal their religions, the young blokes struck Adonis-type poses to fully display their biceps, triceps and undulating six-packs. The men’s abdomens were so sculpted I wondered if they’d simply swallowed loaves of bread without chewing, which were now lined up in those taut tummies. One Nordic Viking was rippling his stomach muscles with such rapidity it resembled a horde of hamsters hiding out under a flesh-tone doona.

‘Has either of you noticed the inordinate number of handsome young men aboard?’ Emerald inquired, peering over the top of her Ray-Bans. ‘Young, single men who seem footloose and fiancée-free? There’s not a beer belly or a food-stained footy shirt in sight.’

‘Well, yes, now you mention it,’ I agreed. ‘Including the entertainment officer, who clearly believes in life, liberty and the happiness of pursuit.’ I pointed at Mr Charisma, who was flashing his blinding-white teeth as he sauntered through a crowd of female passengers, casually patting posteriors and planting kisses.

‘Well,’ the waiter chimed in as he placed our next round of technicolour cocktails on the side table. ‘It is kinda to be expected on a cougar cruise, right?’

The sight of the three Ryan sisters simultaneously spitting out their Slippery Nipples must have been accidentally captured in the background of at least ten iPhone videos, and would surely be the cause of much puzzlement when replayed by other passengers anon.

Amber was the first to regain her composure. ‘I’m sorry – a what?’ Shielding her eyes, she squinted upwards to survey the Herculean hulk clad in black shorts and a tight white tee who had made this revelation.

‘A cougar cruise.’ The waiter flexed his muscles, then stood in an inverted-V position, legs apart, his formidable groin at eye level.

Emerald gave a swoon worthy of an Elvis concert circa 1956. ‘So, what does that mean exactly?’ she asked, in her most velvety voice.

‘Youse older chicks pay, and cubs sail free.’ He winked. ‘Didn’t ya know?’

‘“Cubs”? No, I certainly did not know. Did you?’ Amber asked me, her voice prissy with disapproval.