I love Caitlin Moran's writing and I devoured two of her books, Moranthology (a compendium of articles written for The Times) and How To Be A Woman (in her own words ''like The Female Eunuch, but with jokes about my knickers!") last week.
I could wax lyrical about the plentiful merits of both books and how its impossible not to read them without bursting out laughing on at least every other page, but instead I'll just select one passage which sees Moran discuss the banality of modern day porn movies...
One upon a time, a girl with long nails and a really bad outfit sat on a sofa, trying to look sexy, but actually looking like she'd just remembered a vexing, unpaid parking fine. She might be slightly cross-eyed, due to how tight her bra is.
A man comes in - a man who walks rather oddly, as if he's carrying an invisible garden chair in front of him. This is because he's got a uselessly large penis, which is erect and appears to be scanning the room for the most sexually disinterested thing in it.
Having rejected the window and a vase, the cock finally homes in on the girl on the sofa.
As she disinterestedly licks her lips, the man leans over and - inexplicably - weighs her left breast in his hand. This appears to be the crossing of some kind of sexual Rubicon because, 30 seconds later, she's being fucked at an uncomfortable angle, then bummed whilst looking quite pained. There's usually a bit of arse slapping here, or some hair pulling there - whatever can ring in the variety in a straightforward two-camera shoot in less than five minutes.
It all ends with him coming over her face messily - as if he's haphazardly icing a bun in one of the challenges on The Generation Game.
And that is the genius of Caitlin Moran. I am also, to quote modern parlance, super stoked that her semi autobiographical sitcom on her childhood, Raised By Wolves - which had a piss makingly funny pilot last Christmas - is getting a full series on Channel 4 sometime soon.