Lord or loincloth?

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Valentine’s Day is on a Sunday this year. Carnal or cardinal, that’s the question.

When the commercial juggernaut that is Valentines Day rolls around, it’s supposed to evoke passion, love and — of course — tonnes of good old fashioned bacon-making.

This year it’s on a Sunday and the moral dilemma facing those of a religious persuasion must surely be “Do I love my God more than I love a good, hard shag?”

There may be time to fit both activities in during the day, depending on how much of a lie-in you prefer or whether your lover in the crotchless pants releases you from the handcuffs in time.

But there may be another way to combine the activities of faith and fornication. No I’m not talking about blow jobs at the pulpit — that’s strictly the domain of altar boys and bishops. I mean that during the climax to the moist entanglement, simply look up and pant “Oh God, oh God, oh God… YESSS!” like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.

Don't be shy

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