It’s fair to say that hen dos have been getting steadily out of control. In the 1960s and '70s, a favourite hen do activity was to stick rude words over the bride-to-be’s coat and parade her around the local pub. Pretty risqué back then, but we’ve really outdone ourselves since. Last year I had to say no to a weekend in the south of France because I’d already booked a holiday, couldn’t really afford another one and didn’t want to bankrupt myself hanging out with 10 people I barely knew. The year before that, I didn’t want to abseil down a mountain because I’m frightened of heights. Call me selfish. I’m all for a celebration of romance, but do we have to do it quite so violently? Even the low-key dos are rife with jarring penis straws and weird games like 'pin the penis on the stripper' and, let’s be honest, the sight of male genitalia is hardly the scandal it once was.