Cynthia Payne:
When police raided my Streatham home in 1978 they discovered a scene that would have made Caligula blush. Innumerable aristocrats, politicians, lawyers and television personalities were busy abasing themselves in some of the most sexually perverse ways imaginable, some taking on three or four nubile young women at once and shamelessly posing for Polaroids into the bargain. Looking back it seems incredible that I not only tolerated such behaviour in my own house but actively encouraged it! Be assured, gentle reader, that I now appreciate the wickedness of my former ways, and will not distress you with any further revelations of filth and depravity. The untold story of the Blue Peter presenter and the custard-filled wellies is now consigned forever to the dustbin of history; this memoir will deal only with my childhood in pre-War Bognor and my recent conversion to Christianity.
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