If this post's heading was your thought but a moment ago, you fall into one of two categories.
1) You somehow stumbled upon this blog, saw the words 'damned site', and immediately believed your eyes would be beset by images of an orgy of naked nymphs, writhing in delicious agony while the flames of hell licked at their behinds and a PVC-garbed homunculous beat them with a whip made out of cats' tongues. As you have now realised this imagery is not available to your external organs, I predict you left this site seventy-six words ago.
Or
2) You have just read 'The River Cottage Fish Book' and become sexually aroused like never before. You somehow stumbled upon this blog, after several countless hours looking for any pornography involving fish. I applaud your dilligence. And also recommend you look up "mermaid/man shag-fest", even though it will only take you 50% of the way there. But, ah, imagine that salty tail slapping upon your buttocks ...
This is a blog which I fully intend to be intelligent, insightful, totally lacking in any crude fish-fucking puns whatsoever, and will avoid being deleted by blogger for being against their terms of practice. This intention is bound to fail, but - as the old saying goes - "I'd rather topple off my perch after giving a carp it's due, than get buggered up the arse by a backed-up sperm whale."
And this is why I shouldn't write a blog.
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