Kerre Woodham: Awful ad gives me the shivers

The person who thought up the cougar promotion for Air New Zealand's offshoot grabaseat.co.nz undoubtedly thinks the campaign is screamingly funny. And maybe it is. Maybe I lost my sense of humour when I turned 40.

Maybe this is cutting edge and out there and just like, really pushing the limits, man. But when I read the blurb on the website, I could only think how distasteful it all was.

Basically it's a push to get 60 older party girls to head down to Wellington for the Sevens to be the pride of cougar cheerleaders. If they win the competition, all the women get are tickets to the Sevens - they have to make their own way down and pay their own costs.

Oh, and they get cheerleading outfits - hopefully they won't be the psychedelic new hostie uniforms.

I'm in the age range to be a cougar - but I read Collette far too young to have ever found young men attractive. Anyone who's ever read Cheri or The Kepi will know what I mean.

I can appreciate a good looking and a witty young man but as for actually getting down and dirty with one, no way. Just the thought of my craggy old flesh being pressed against some dewy skinned firm young thing fills me with horror.

I am no Mrs Robinson - neither the film version, nor the predatory old tart from Northern Ireland - but even if I was, I would never refer to young men as "rare meat".

Nor would I agree with any of the cougars' top tips - one of which is: young men are still quite stupid. Take advantage.

There's an even more distasteful video that has some old trollop pretty much raping a young man and then references to P addicts who fleece cougars of their money - it's all very, very nasty.

Can you imagine the screams of outrage if this was a competition designed to get groady old men hooking up with young, dumb slabs of girl meat?

Still, far be it from me to stand in the way of a good time. Sixteen groups of women have responded to the call and posted their profiles on the site - just the one young man has volunteered to be fresh meat. Maybe young men aren't so stupid after all.

Is it me? God knows I won't die wondering when I finally pop off this mortal coil. It's very easy to be po-faced when you find true love and give up the party-girl lifestyle - a bit like a reformed smoker - but objectifying and insulting young men doesn't strike me as particularly amusing.

And being a cougar cheerleader at the Sevens - subject to comment and scrutiny and worst of all, pity - sounds like my idea of hell.