What is it? A type of dance performed on and around a metal pole, more often in an erotic fashion in dodgy bars, but increasingly also in gym studios.

How much does it cost? I went to Revved Up Pole, in Ashford, Kent, which costs £12.50 per class, but prices vary.

What does it promise? A cardio workout, an upper-body workout, better balance, improved flexibility – and profoundly heightened self-confidence. All of that, plus it’s dead sexy.

What’s it actually like? Not sexy in the slightest. Walking home after an hour of pole dancing was like being kicked in the thigh by a horse and then subjected to a weaponised bout of chub-rub. The lesson started off easily enough – and fortunately I was strong enough to flip upside down with relative ease – but the real problems came when I had to hold myself up the pole with my thighs alone. The grip you need for this is berserk, and the pole intrudes upon your most intimate areas in a frankly unnecessary way. And this was just beginners’ stuff – my instructors Bex and Claire could contort themselves wildly on the pole without so much as breaking a sweat. By the end of the class, my thighs were covered in so many sores and friction burns that I had to nick some of my son’s nappy rash cream to soothe myself. Pole dancers are tough, probably much tougher than we’ve previously give them credit for.

Best and worst bit The best bit is the sense of accomplishment you get after you nail a potentially tricky move. Then again, my thighs look like rancid meat now.

Is it worth it? I’m planning to go back, so yes.