How do people come up with this stuff?!

You know how it happens. You sign onto Twitter. You start tweeting.

Mohamed, your IT director, makes a recommendation, and you find yourself following TinkabelleTease, who offers such gems as:

“Had to hot foot it back to Mayfair to give a newly divorced fella a porn star experience which was a great laugh, and then … ”

and

“I met Father Christmas, and my gift was an orgasm. I did not tell him I have been a bad girl but I think he knew.”

Tink, in case you’re confused, is a high-class prostitute based in London, and she appears to be the real thing (apart from her job, she shops at Waitrose, visits the bank and enjoys reading Martin Amis). One afternoon she notes:

“Well I spent some of my morning with my VIP who I teabagged and fucked until he asked me to marry him, one of these day I will yes!”

Teabagging? Teabagging? What, pray tell, is this? I am confused. Naturally, I google it, and am horrified at what I find — almost as horrified as I was when I looked up bukkake after a colleague mentioned it over coffee back when I worked in Sydney. I update my Facebook status accordingly, as one does; one male friend asks whether I am now going to look at the world through Russian goggles.

I tell another male friend that I have just learned what teabagging is, and am appropriately traumatised. Oh, teabagging? he says. Ja, I know that. I’ve done that to people.

He explains that it’s the sort of thing that gets done when guys are alone together, and alcohol is involved. Things like throwing faeces, funnelling beer through someone’s bum crack and forcing others to drink it, competitive vomiting and other things too revolting to mention.

For some reason, this reminds me of the behaviour of chimpanzees in a zoo, and I wonder: could you imagine women behaving like this? Would a group of women get together, get drunk on Archers Aqua, hold boob-squeezing competitions and wave their fannies at each other? I have a suspicion that they wouldn’t, mainly because they have better things to do.

Granted, I have never witnessed an Essex girl hen night, so perhaps I am making all sorts of politically incorrect assumptions.

This completely OTT Bacchanalian streak in men is something that I find perplexing. Maybe it’s the dark side of all that male drive and ambition that’s supposed to have propelled humanity from grass huts to towers of glass.

Camille Paglia, where are you?

It’s a mystery. What I do know, now, is that teabagging refers to something other than making a cup of Five Roses. And that somehow, I wish I didn’t.