Sweeping generalizations being a journalistic taboo, kindly allow us a little wiggle room to exercise some elementary deductive reasoning. Could it be that women (such as those in BBB2) who've been um, reengineered to such obvious fictional degrees ... are also quite capable of manufacturing orgasms on command? As the man said: "No shit, Sherlock."

Copious moans notwithstanding, real intimacy is as absent from this release as Michael Moore at an NRA meeting. Eight interchangeable fillies are trotted out to perform a series of appliance-assisted encounters in which large rubber toys vie for screen time with huge plastic tits. The winner in this dubious race isn't the customer - but it might be OPEC.