The first piece of smut you read tends to be burned into your brain, if you're unaware that such a genre exists. Ask me about the romance novel I found in the condo we stayed in during a beach vacation when I was seven or eight. (I didn't know what a "romance novel" was, oops.)

To borrow a line someone leveled at Andy Blake: I know this is criticizing the paint job on the Titanic, but considering what else she got away with, I'm almost tempted to call that bit of wank "tame by comparison."