The government is concerned that large numbers of ostensibly sane adults are devoting too much time on the internet arguing about '50 Shades of Grey', an inexplicably popular take on Jane Austen, only with nipple clamps in place of literary merit. Meanwhile, many slightly pervy people are also concerned that the novel's runaway success in Middle England may mean that they never get insulted by the Daily Mail again.
'I welcome the sudden discovery by large number of people that they can buy and even read the items of printed text often referred to in the trade as 'books', said Health Minister Andrew Lansley. 'However, if the frustrated marketing assistants of Britain are all being distracted from their work by the inane fantasy of a mysterious handsome kinky billionaire making butterflies flood their bellies, we have to act.'
Quivering moist messses up and down the land said they were indignant at Lansley's comments. 'My inner goddess did a mergengue with some salsa moves when I heard what he said,' said Wendy Shapland, a 42-year-old waste of carbon from Surrey. 'How dare some jumped-up MP, who's probably toast at the next reshuffle and who doesn't even have his own Red Room of Pain tell me what I can and can't have?'
Some balding middle-aged men have also reacted angrily to the idea that an attractive blonde 22-year old virgin virgin who doesn't know how attractive she really is may not be about to pop round to their garden shed later this evening carrying a cup of tea and a riding crop, her insides practically contorted with needy, liquid desire, whatever that is. However, the official advice stands.
'Now look at me, young lady,' said Lansley, as the electorate stared deep into his smouldering grey gaze. 'This is not a blueprint for your tedious life and I am not, repeat not, your own Andrew Lansley-flavoured popsicle. It is intolerable in the deepest economic crisis of modern times that a whole country should be distracted by a piece of third rate fiction from the fact that they are still being robbed blind by sociopaths in suits called bankers ... ah, hang on a minute...'