And then Lady Chatterley Jumped on the Stripper Pole and Did a Slow Grind that Blew the Daisies Out of My Chest Hair

I admit my eyes glazed over in spots of the novel -- mostly whenever the narrative slipped into extended discussions on coal, coal-mining, and their effect on the natural landscape -- so it's possible I missed it. No, no, it's not: Even glazed over, my eyes would have spotted this. I would have caught a mention of Lady Chatterley's Thong.

I'm hardwired for stuff like that. I'm like a thong savant.

Luckily, someone in DH Lawrence's family is, too, and it sounds like he and the rest of the surviving Lawrences are less happy about this than I am.