There is, as you know, both a time and a place for p-rn. The perversion is correctly served as an after dinner mint to the solitary patron by means of packet switching. Then, you clear your cache (oo err) and tell the missus you were checking the super fund.
The time and place for p-rn, according to Auberon Waugh, is never in Serious Literature. The late son of the great Evelyn was known and reviled in life as a posh todger. He was also, as it happens, one funny Tory. (He also wrote novels. I've had a look and they're not much chop.)