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Simon Cowell was last night left clearly unimpressed by a seven-minute masturbation session in his central London apartment.

Cowell, who is back in England to film the first stages of the fifth series of hit show X Factor, left a meeting at company BMG records in Putney at around half past five in the evening. He drove his sports car three and a half miles to his Chelsea apartment, a journey that took around half an hour.

As Britain continued to swelter in its May heat wave, he couldn’t help but notice that there was an unfeasible amount of attractive women on the streets. Young ladies in short skirts and low cut tops dominated his field of vision, many looking tanned and taut in figure hugging outfits, particularly in the notoriously wealthy neighbourhoods that Cowell’s homeward journey took.

Even women he wouldn’t normally look at seemed to get more attractive, the less they wore: he was amazed to notice how striking a rather working class seeming teenage mother looked, causing him some stiffening in the penile region.

In all honesty, Cowell’s problems had already began before he even left work: a combination of the heat, boredom and an attractive young work experience girl had already given him feelings of nagging sexual longing, which he had tried and failed to sate by sneakily logging on to the Nuts website when nobody was looking.

After half an hour sitting in his hatchback, spying premium posh totty on the streets of South West London, he was just about ready to explode.

Getting back inside his apartment at a few minutes past six, he was relieved to discover that no one else was in, and quickly rushed up to his bedroom to satisfy his rampant libido. His mind brimming with filth, he knew that his mission would be brief but looked forward to its intensity.

However, Cowell was soon distraught to find that his "wank bank" (rude thoughts and images that are called upon when necessary by the mind) was empty. "That was absolutely average", he chided his mind, "I’m sorry, but at this stage along the line I’m looking for something very special, and you’re just not it". His mind is apparently severely distressed by the roasting it received.




Desperately, Cowell reached for a two month old copy of Club International. Flicking through, he stopped to ogle the many bums and boobs on display but found that none could muster him from his semi-erect torpor. "This used to be my favourite porn mag - not anymore" he icily told the traumatised publication.

Cowell still urgently wanted to finish the job, so in a moment of panic, looked out of his penthouse window at a school field over the road, where a group of 15-year-old girls were doing hockey practice. Finally, after a couple of minutes of self-abuse, he found much-needed relief.





However, he still wasn’t happy. "I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t believe that you are good enough to cause my orgasm. I could have spied on 100 different hockey teams and all would have been just as good. Not one of you stands out as real jailbait" he sneered. The teenage girls, many of whom had queued for hours just for a brief chance to make Cowell come, openly cried as he cruelly ripped into them.





One of their mothers blasted: "I just don’t think it’s fair the way he has a go at them. I’d like to see him try and turn on a middle aged man dressed in a PE kit, then he’d know how hard it is". Another added: "He is playing with people’s dreams. There was no need to be so harsh, particularly when you could see him cupping his orgasm in his hand".

But many still love Cowell’s approach: "He’s just honest, is all it is", said one fan. "He tells it how it is – if you can’t turn an old man on then there’s no point in people pretending that you can."