Sex and the older generation

THERE WILL be joy among those of a certain generation at the news that this week Herman, of Hermits fame, is to be united in a major radio project with Brian Poole, formerly of the Tremeloes.

The involvement of Edwina Currie and Peter Stringfellow in the scheme may be greeted with slightly less enthusiasm, while Germaine Greer's inclusion will alarm those of a more nervous disposition, but, all in all, BBC local radio's Love for Life campaign seems likely to prompt spasms of nostalgia across the nation.

In fact, if the week-long offensive serves its purpose, spasms will be very much the order of the day. Its aim, apparently, is to get oldsters out of the armchair and back into the sack for a good old Sixties-style workout. According to the BBC organisers, we reduce by a half the risk of suffering a heart attack if we have frequent orgasmic sex. "As we move into the next millennium, most of us can expect to live longer and enjoy an active sex life well into our sixties, seventies or even older," they say. So, with the help of some mature yet dynamic celebrities, 39 local radio stations will be conducting discussions and phone-ins on such issues as getting fit for sex, what to do if your children are embarrassed by you, and "changing your sexuality late in life".

There will be objections, of course. Some will argue that if, at the age of sixty, you need to be reminded how to get your leg over by Brian Poole, with or without his Tremeloes, then the love generation might as well never have existed. Others may find something unpleasantly hectoring about the BBC's insistence on frequent orgasmic sex, as if a gentle tumble without that all-important, health-giving conclusion were entirely unacceptable. It might even be thought that an erotic discussion between Peter Stringfellow and Edwina Currie would cause more heart attacks than it would prevent.

Yet, surely, there is something affecting about these sincere public figures taking time out of playing at Butlins, or writing trashy novels, or pulling 20-year-olds in night-clubs, in order to get older Britain shagging once more. And, who knows, it may even work. Humming the anthem of the moment, "All You Need is Frequent Orgasmic Sex", the ageing hipsters may once more get on down to the sounds of "Something is Happening", from Herman and the Hermits, followed by "I Like It" from Freddie and the Dreamers, finishing off triumphantly with Cilla Black's "Come Inside, Love". Those for whom Auntie Cilla's other hit "Anyone Who Had a Heart" represents a medical risk could receive a gentle warning from Gerry and the Pacemakers.

But it is not just in its deployment of C-list celebrities that reveals the Love for Life campaign as a product of our times. In a culture increasingly obsessed by, and dominated by, those between the ages of 20 and 50, when Mo Mowlam can appear without embarrassment on the stage at the Brit awards and William Hague can pose in a baseball cap like an extra from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, the awkward ages - teenage and late middle age - become areas of official concern. While those in their teens are taught lessons in citizenship, people in their fifties and sixties are reminded of their essential sexual duties.

Behind these campaigns is a sense of queasy distaste. Just as any teenage misdemeanour causes trills of outrage, so behaviour deemed inappropriate for those above a certain age is condemned with venomously personal abuse.

An odd double standard seems to be applied here. When an older man - most recently Rod Stewart or Mick Jagger - is deserted by his young wife, there is a universal chortling in the press. Yet, the same behaviour in a woman is regarded as a sign of indomitable sportiness and love of life. So, while Robin Cook's falling in love with a younger woman was pathetic and undignified, Margaret Cook's holiday fling with a tour guide was merely the natural and generous expression of her sexuality. Peter Stringfellow is a joke in poor taste, while Babs Windsor, with her younger lover, is a national treasure.

There are exceptions - Tom Jones, Alan Clark and Sean Connery are allowed to be sexy and old - and perhaps the prejudice has something more to do with showing off the potency of one's wizened sex appeal than with any gender bias.

Either way, when true old age arrives, disapproval fades. It is replaced by the emotion of the moment, an ostentatious sentimentalism, particularly evident in the endless, weepy tributes of the confessional newspaper columnists to ageing or dead parents, who are beyond the reach of Edwina and Peter, Herman and Brian.