Missing: 1 Raging Libido

Apologies, dear readers...

Since 2008, my insatiable mission to become a vile slag fell by the wayside... while flying around the world, I somehow - inexplicably - lost my libido!

I don't know how - or, more importantly, where it happened. I was sitting outside a bar on a sunny day one evening, discussing sex with my housemate, when it suddenly occurred to me that it had been months since my last encounter. Slowly, without my realising it, my infamous mojo had somehow absconded.

But where the hell did I last have it?

During those months, my job as longhaul cabin crew had taken me across the globe. Somewhere along the line, my raging sex-drive had vanished. Was it a victim of the Bermuda Triangle? Was it floating in the Atlantic somewhere, desperate for a lifeline? It seemed possible.

More worryingly, I didn't even know if my libido could swim! And of course there sharks to consider...

I re-traced my steps. Had I left my libido in San Francisco?

I started to worry. My libido was young and naive... Was it wandering aimlessly around New York, trying to hail a cab? Was it stumbling around Chicago? Or Las Vegas?

I started to well up. I had last seen it in Hong Kong when I had drunken sex with a Virgin pilot. But was it there in the morning? Had he stolen it?

No... I vaguely recalled feeling horny for the rest of the day, long after he had left.

So where was it? And - crucially - how did I go about getting it back?

I reached for my phone and, with trembling fingers, started to dial 999... this was a grave emergency. I could almost see the stricken face of the dispatcher as she took the call. She would stifle a cry of horror and, with utmost professionalism, make a life-affirming call that would validate her career and immortalise her in history. I imagined her yelling into her handset: "Calling all units! We need all hands on deck - stop whatever you're doing. We've got a code 636!"

All across the land, tremors of shock would ripple through the emergency services. Finally... after all these years of training... a code 636. And they said it would never happen...

Surely this would be treated with the utmost urgency? They'd probably send a helicopter and everything!

I envisaged my weary, tear-stained face gazing imploringly into the glare of the media spotlight as I made my TV appeal.

"Please," I would gasp, in between violent sobs, "If anyone has seen it... I just want to know if my libido is ok..."

Naturally, I would grace the cover of the tabloids for weeks on on end. I'd be surprised if Oprah didn't want to speak to me.

But, at the last second, I just couldn't bring myself to dial 999. I couldn't bring the country to its knees like that - there were far more worthy causes. Missing children, serial rapists etc.

Revelling in my own martyrdom, I hung up the phone. This was up to me - and me alone - to solve.

I was the one who has mislaid my neglected libido. And I would to be the one to bloody well find it!