It’s the bitter old bag’s refrain but youth is wasted on the young, eh?

Or maybe (just a teeny-tiny-miniscule chance, this) I am just jealous of those little scamps going off to get spangled (and also laid) at the nation’s festivals in Festivals, Sex & Suspicious Parents (BBC Three, Tuesdays, 2am. Yes. On a school night. I know!).

Since the shock news that the Beeb is shutting the channel (well, making it online only) to scrape together £100m savings demanded of it, I for one have started tuning in a bit more. After all, that intoxicating blend of Don’t Tell The Bride and Gavin & Stacey repeats ain’t gonna watch itself.

Well, I am still firmly, stubbornly in the target market of BBC Three (aimed at 16- to 34-year-olds, apparently) and so feel slightly attached to it in my last gasp of youth. But I feel about a million years older than the teens featured in Festivals, Sex & Suspicious Parents, who are given a free ride to enjoy the wonders of fun under canvas while – surprise! – their parents are secretly in tow, watching their every lunge at a member of the opposite sex – along with all the viewers at home.

In last Tuesday’s episode, we were treated to Bristol based ‘ladies’ man and part-time model’ Harry and ‘19-year-old Stoke party girl’ Hannah heading off to Sundown in Norfolk for a weekend of revelry (what a middle-aged word: I hate myself for repeating it).

Let the déjà vu commence. We see these whippersnappers setting up camp, hormones all abuzz, as they talk about sex and sweetly worrying about getting Morning Glory in the tent with their mates the next morning (the boys). ‘I can’t tell if it’s sweat or p*** running down my leg,’ says Harry in his onesie.

Darkness falls and we cut to: the ‘pulling’. As Harry is blatantly hot in his vest and floppy fringe, his pulling technique basically constitutes getting annihilated on vodka and then being lurched at by a series of females high on life and hormones. As Bangaram pulses in the background, his mates watch on with both pride and envy as Harry does a good impression of a gypsy grab, taking his pick of tipsy teenage girls before footage of the effortless, sweaty snogging joy is served up. (‘With Harry, it’s always hoes before bros’ says his mate, bitterly). Meanwhile, Hannah is half-cut and pondering what constitutes a threesome. ‘Well, if you shared a bed and everyone got ****ed, it is,’ says her friend, conclusively.

So far, so normal for Norfolk. And there’s a sense that these kids are, gloriously wasted, as is their right, being young and free. Until the sober moment when their parents watch their antics while cringeing and fretting. Harry’s parents, who have tried to raise him in a Christian household with respect for women, bemoan his attitude, while Hannah’s mum wears the ‘been there, done that’ expression familiar on any mum of a teenage girl.

But they needn’t worry too much. The following evening, having spanked their energy and cash on their debut, the teens are in lower spirits. Harry gets a nipple pierced and tries to high-five a passing hottie before moaning in agony that his pulling days are over. His mates are delighted they have their buddy back and Harry is last seen saying how much he loves his mum and dad. Awww.

Hannah is similarly chastened, having realised she’s off to uni and cannot be arsed with bloke-bothering. So, it’s happy days all round. And, having wrapped this up, hopefully the mums and dads got wasted to the tasty beats of Pendulum.

I can’t think of a better way for the BBC to spend our licence fees.