Contention in a Camberwell cafe escalated, when a thirty-something confessed that she had ‘absolutely zero desire’ to propagate the planet.

Speaking passionately amongst shocked peers and their offspring, Olivia Napton disclosed, ‘the only clock ticking in my body, is the one which is synchronised with last orders at the bar.’

Feeling fiercely that Napton had made a Freudian slip, maternal peers tried in vain to convert her treacherous tones. Responding vehemently, Napton mused,’My stomach has no desire to have stretch marks like a London road map, nor do I want a fanny the width of the Old Kent Road.’

Further friction ensued, with Napton’s suggestion that the monthly meet-up should be child-free in future, ‘Just admit you’re all piss bored! Lunches are much more convivial, without small people dribbling bodily fluids out of every orifice and eating bogies.’

Maintaining a firm position Napton explained,’I don’t want to find myself yearning for a maternal haircut, waterproof jackets and Clarke’s shoes. I’m in a deep and meaningful relationship with galaxy and my duvet, in my blissfully barren world.’