I change out of my wet clothes and into a dressing gown. The girls blow-dry my hair as I drink champagne. At their urging, I try on garments from the piles on the bed. My resulting outfit is of Bip and Ban’s design, a daring ensemble of a black leather skirt, strapless red top, rosebud headband, diamanté-studded belt and silver loop earrings. I ditch the belt immediately, feeling equally unsure about the rest. The top is designed to be worn without a bra – miraculously, it is holding me in quite well as in the chest department, at least, the girls are larger than me. However, I have to keep my tummy sucked right in otherwise the material rolls up and exposes my smaller-than-it-used-to-be muffin top. The skirt shows off more of my thighs than I’m comfortable with, and at my age, I’m not sure leather is appropriate.

I voice my concerns and the girls squeeze me into a pair of tan-coloured control-top tights. My belly shrinks to washboard flat. My thighs appear cellulite-free, like I have the legs of Beyoncé.

They tell me, repeatedly, how sexy I look.

Well and truly tipsy from the champagne they keep topping up, I’m open to believing them. We neck another bottle from Harry’s fridge – apparently, Harry won’t mind, the girls do it all the time. There’s been no mention of cocaine, which is a relief. Like giggly teenagers at a sleep-over party, we dance around the room and jump across the bed. Little Mix is blaring out of the Sonos speaker via Spotify.

I’ve had a more languid snoop around Harry’s flat. His refrigerator contains only apples, champagne and a bottle of vodka in the freezer. In his living room, his magazine rack is full of glossies, including a few of what must be the last bastions of printed porn. (Admittedly, the pages are dog-eared wherever there’s a picture of a woman I vaguely recognise from his wall.) A game of Twister sits upon the sideboard.

‘We saw DJ Bassdog on the show, on Monday.’

‘He was so weird, and so hot. You pick the best guests.’

‘Yes. Tell us, who’s on next week?’

‘Can you tell us?’

I make the girls promise not to tell another living soul – after out bonding in the toilets and how kind they’ve been to me tonight, they’ve earned my trust – I tell them about our upcoming guests. Jerry from Love Island, Kenny S from Luton, not Maximillian who plays Poseidon but super-cute Adrian from our advertising department. The girls clap their hands like baby seals.

‘So, what are our plans for tonight?’ I ask. When Ban suggested fun, I’d thought we might head out to a club and dance. Perhaps, meet some men and flirt. ‘It’s almost 1 a.m. and I’m older than you, so if we want to go out dancing, we probably should head off sharpish?