Fifty grades of hay.

There is a man who has dared to read the womanly porn book of the year. We men must don our serious faces and hope into our beer that he will not turn all funny as a result. Then laugh like drains if he does.

His journey begins here.

I am inspired to construct a similar piece of contentious literature. ‘Fifty grades of hay’ should have the farming community utterly incensed because everyone knows there are only forty-nine. I hope to see them in the news shouting Ooo-arrr and Begorrah and Where’s the Cider as soon as it comes out, if not before.

Yes, it will be plant-porn nonsense but it seems to sell.