This was the question I put to my mother and sister over lunch. I know this may not be standard familial dinner table conversation, but as my sister and mother are in London for the day I thought I’d try something a little different.

Last night, again, I had to endure the passion parade produced by the guy and his love interest in the flat above. Previously I have described his girlfriend as a "yelping dog", although to her credit she has toned it down to somewhere within acceptable limits over the last two months.

Unlike her man.

And his man-grunts.

Almost on a par with man breasts for repulsivity, my flatmate’s man-grunts are on their way to putting me off sex for life. Hearing another man grunt "oooh, oohohoh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" as I frantically searched for my earplugs was a trauma I’ll be struggling with for years.

Tonight, being Saturday night, means an evening out on the tiles, but should I get anywhere near a young woman tonight all I’ll be hearing is the memory of my flatmate grunting "oooh, oohohoh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" should the conversation shift to something racy.

Something needs to be done.

So I made a plan…

To give ‘em a taste of their own medicine.

I reckon that on approximately 50 occasions over the past few months I’ve had to reach for the earplugs, which means to get my own back I’d need to repay them on a half century of occasions.

Unless...

I got 49 people into the flat with me, and together we could produce a symphony of shag soundz to teach ‘em a lesson.

I will be the conductor for the performance, and after the count of three I’d like everyone to grunt at the same time:

“oooh, oohohoh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”