Now, I’m not one to stand on ceremony, that is unless it is necessary for the gentlemen present at the aforesaid ceremony to be standing proud, and then, if so, I will be at the forefront, standing as proud and erect as a man of my advancing years can be.
However, time does take its toll, and the… er… increasingly mature amongst us gathered here should be aware of that. Of course, in your prime you no doubt managed to partake of three or four orgies a day, with time off to indulge in whatever in-depth studies of the perverted arts and sciences you were involved in at the time, as well.
Now, though, perhaps you would prefer a nice cup of tea and a small chat about the weather, or the state of your delphiniums, with the postmistress rather than a game of Full-Cream Fondle The Weather Forecaster. There is nothing at all wrong with this, as long as you do manage to indulge in the odd (or even quite ordinary and run-of-the-mill) perversion every now and then, just to keep your hand (or whichever other bodily part you may - or may not - prefer) in.
No, we have to look upon our advancing years as a time of opportunity, rather than one of decreasing vigour or even decreasing ardour – although if you find your ardour is more a case of softer these days, then you can get pills for it. It can also be a time for study and the contemplation of the glories that are the perverted arts and sciences. It is a time to appreciate the incredible amount of literature (for the discerning connoisseur) that can now by access through this wonder that is the interwebnets (when the bloody thing decides to work that is).
More importantly, the advancing years should be seen as a time of opportunity. A time for one to finally, clearly, precisely and distinctly to tell the world (with optional appropriate hand gestures) just exactly what one thinks of it.