No Way Back...or...The Virgin (Drama) Queen

I am keeping a low profile, making excuses to "just nip out to the shops", burying my head in a book or locking myself in the loo with the newspaper. There is a girly-style crisis in the air at Pither Towers and my Y chromosome is screaming at me to be anywhere other than here.
News of this crisis was broken in a phone call to my soon-to-be ex-wife last night. It was her 16-year-old god-daughter. "Aunty Soon-To-Be Ex-Wife," the pubescent one began, "I've lost my virginity and mummy is furious."
A frenzy of furrowed-brow chat ensued as the current Mrs Pither was passed between the ruined virgin and her never-was-a-virgin-in-the-first-place-to-my-knowledge mother. Mrs P, bless her, was very much of the opinion that IT was going to happen some time, the girl had lost her cherry to her boyfriend and not some stranger in a nightclub, she was of legal age and they had "gloved their love" so - good for you girl!
Despite that, there were tears, Mrs P began quaffing copious amounts of wine, chain smoking and then, when three sheets to the wind, she came out with the line I had been dreading. "Come and have a word with her Reg." Quick as a flash, I said, as earnestly as I could, that there were some loose tiles on the roof which needed replacing and I had been meaning to fix them for a while but STB EW was not to be thwarted. "Reginald, it's 11.30 at night! Not a good idea. Come and have a word."
What the Hell was I supposed to say to the tainted teenager, particularly as I am a 46-year-old man whose most recent sexual encounters have been with his own hand? Lucky cow?
I can't remember much about when I lost my virginity. I think there were doodle bugs flying overhead and I seem to recall the sound of an air raid siren.
I resisted the temptation to say her mother had been somewhat morally casual in her youth and that, in fact, at the age of 16 her pants had been about as difficult to get into as an unlocked car on a cinema car park. Instead, I billed and cooed about how mummy was only upset because it evidently seemed to her that she had lost "her little girl". There then followed the statutory lecture about condoms, contraception and personal safety. I did, I think, cheer her up with that maginificent poem recited by Robert Saw in Jaws:

Here lies the body of Mary Lee,
Died at the age of 103,
For 15 years she kept her virginity,
Not a bad record for this vacinity!

The phone was, however, snatched from me when I mentioned something to the effect that "it" was good for your skin and she had to learn to fully relax her throat muscles to perfect deepthroat.
The hullabaloo is still going on today with the phone ringing every hour or so and Mrs P going into hushed counselling mode each time. I am running out of excuses to stop me being dragged into this kitchen sink drama and so I think I will have to escape to a place a sanctuary - one that sells beer. Hurrah!
As ELO almost sang, "it's virginity, it's a terrible thing to lose" so the traumas of cherry popping can go to Grantham.