In the light of recent tabloid scandals, particularly those involving Ashley Cole and Vernon Kay, I was moved to seek out spiritual advice as to whether "text-sex" was just a bit of harmless flirtatiousness, or whether it was something much graver, which could possibly result in public decapitation in some countries.
From my point of view, I text sex as a relatively harmless way to while away time in a moment of boredom, such as on a long journey, or in a moment of maudlin loneliness.
I consider my view to be reasonably balanced, because text sex involves no actual physical contact, thus assuring that an innocent partner will never inadvertently stumble upon a significant other jammed up to the nuts in some brainless tart who makes a living by flashing her airbags for a fee.
I also figured that a quick one off the wrist while somebody texts pornographic filth over your mobile was harmless - again because there is no actual physical contact involved.
Not so, advises spiritual guardian, defrocked Bishop, Lemmy Spunkwad. It appears that the moral issue here revolves around intent, rather than direct action. As Lemmy told us in the smoking zone of the Rat And Ferret pub:
"If you get turned on by somebody telling you that they'd like to perform oral sex on you while whipping your arse with a knotted bootlace as you roll around naked in pig shit, then you're just as guilty as you'd be had you actually done it. The same law applies to talk involving KY Jelly, vacuum cleaners, washing machines, viagra, fishing rods, wellington boots, nurse's uniforms, gladiators, earthworms, or anything else connected with sex. You're as guilty discussing it as you are doing it."
Celebrities and their apologists take note.
More as I get it.