“Harems don’t really do it for me.”

At least, that was my starting point in a discussion with Cath, who’s been staying with us for the past few days. She sniggered her surprise.

It wasn’t so much the continuous availability of beautiful women at my beck and call that was the problem, I explained. More, it was that the sultan (for, of course, that would be my role) would feel very distant. One could end up hardly seeing a girl for weeks on end, were there to be (say) twenty in the palace – and my fantasy sultan’s palaces pre-date the era of the internet to keep in touch between visits.

But then I thought about it more deeply, and realised there was a whole new dimension to this: collecting one’s girls in the first place. Oh, how I could relish that process. Girls sent as gifts from neighbouring princes; slave markets to check out; villagers offering up their prettiest for my consideration as I toured their humble abodes.

And then, the task of taming a new girl once I’d selected her. She might protest when she was sent to my chamber that first time; would a spanking over my knee teach her obedience, or would I need to tie her for a whipping before she complied? Indeed, *would* she comply…

Suddenly, the harem has a whole new appeal. But still, the lack of emotional connection would be tough. I think I’ll pass on becoming a sultan. Although it’s a close call.

PS Dear lady sitting next to me on the Jubilee Line reading over my shoulder as I type this. Yes, you may well look shocked. Let that be a lesson to you in being so rude as to read other people’s notes.