Rating movies

If, like me, you thought the British Board of Film Classification was staffed by red pen-wielding fuddy-duddies, think again. At the entrance to its office in Soho Square, I’m greeted by its youthful, engaging press officer. Wearing what I think young people call ‘killer heels’, and treating me to an anecdote about how she copes with the ‘boring’ Euro 2012 football by drinking lots of wine, she couldn’t be less like Mary Whitehouse if she tried.

She introduces me to David Austin, head of policy. He’s not even wearing a collar and tie, never mind a censuring grimace. Within 20 minutes of my meeting him he has used the c-word more times than I have in 2012 so far (in the context of discussing its use in movies, of course), and has described to me a sexual activity I’d never heard of. He sees it a lot in the hardcore porn he classifies.