Sexless (Sort Of) In London

This week, black armbands are being worn all over England's capital city. Hundreds of women are skulking around the streets barely able to raise their gaze from their ill-shod feet. London has become frumpy again, a colourless Manolo Blanik free zone.

Why? Well it's because Carrie Bradshaw and her chums have retired. Gone. As good as died.

You see, here in Britain on Friday night, your TV series "Sex and the City" ended - we're always a couple of weeks behind you in these things ... and our reaction to its passing has been incredible. Dozens of TV and radio hours given to discussing the finale of this weekly televisual feast of fashion, frippery and female friendship.

And why not? Does everything have to be important? Does everything have to be about terror or war or elections? As Carrie herself might punch into her laptop ... is it now time to ask why, just because something is fun, it can't matter? The whole world is such a dull, dreary grey place to be in.

We all try to make every second count by being worthy and busy and definitely not fun. Avid fans of this award winning series have been admonished and told to get a life, find something important to focus on. Why? It's like worthy sentiment has become our modern day flagellation. If it doesn't publicly hurt or teach us something, then it's deemed as worthless. And this fierce attitude is breeding thousands of fun Judas's – people denying being involved in anything lightweight or frivolous - secretly smiling behind their hands or giggling on the dark side of a closed door. Just because we laugh and play and have fun doesn't mean we don't get how terrible things can be. After all it's human nature to laugh in the face of adversity. London during the Second World War produced some brilliant comedy, soldiers on the battlefield relentlessly tell jokes to each other to ease their suffering and balance their mood. Let's laugh at those who would have us in misery and pain. Remember – a spoon full of sugar helps that nasty old medicine go down.

So goodbye, girls, thanks for the laughs – even if the closest most of us Londoners got to high glamour was more "Sex on The Couch" ... than "Sex In The City!"

By Petrie Hosken