The Fifty Shades parody just got 20% cooler.They say money is a great aphrodisiac, but are there really enough billions in the world to mitigate the many flaws of a man who wears DON’T FRIENDZONE ME t-shirts and thinks all you have to do to acquire old-school, film noir charm is to pop on a fedora and call all women toots?Can enough money exist to take the edge off a man like Crispian Neigh, a doughy internet billionaire of uncertain provenance and even less certain weight? Is he doomed to be Forever Alone, or is there a woman in the world who can see the man behind the billions, and forgive his habit of drawing busty dwarf erotica based on World of Warcraft characters?Step forward Hanna Squeal – literature student and insurance risk, a self-proclaimed intellectual so alarmingly dim that she thinks Camus is a chickpea-based dip flavoured with garlic.When Hanna stumbles, glissades and finally faceplants in front of him, Crispian Neigh is enraptured by her beauty, her implausible innocence and her shatteringly low self-esteem.Cue several hundred pages of poorly-written, repetitive ‘kinky’ sex. Flogging, whipping, fisting, anal intercourse and things that would give even James Joyce cause to pause – none of these things happen in this book. Due to a sheltered girlhood (I’m not kidding – she’s never even leaned up against the washing machine on the spin cycle.) Hanna doesn’t even know the difference between an orgasm and a sneeze.Also he’s got that thing that hasn’t quite cleared up yet.But when Crispian makes Hanna an offer she can’t refuse (Severed horse heads a very real possibility.) she is determined to forge on with the relationship in spite of the objections of her stoner friend Kate, her polyamorous Etsy addict mother and the rude retorts of her spiteful Inner Goddess.Can Hanna change him? (No) Can she turn him into the kind of boyfriend she’s always wanted? (Nope.) And can she get over his deepest, darkest, pinkest secret and bring herself to love and tolerate My Little Brony? (Probably not – not if we want to wring a sequel out of this thing.)************************************************************"I have never shown another woman the inside of this room," he says, as we reach the door of the playroom. It's just a door - wood with a brushed steel handle. No heavy foreshadowing here.Maybe that's why I relax and maybe that's why I'm shocked when he opens the door. Holy crap.Pink. So much pink. The floor is pink. The walls are pink and covered with pink shelving units. The only thing that isn't pink are the ponies, colourful plastic ponies who smile down at me from every available inch of wall space. I remember the toystore and suddenly I understand."Oh my God..." I gasp. "Oh my God. You're a..."I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Yes, Hanna. I'm a brony."I turn to face him. "I don't understand..." I stutter.He stares at me, raw emotion sheening his chocolate brown eyes. "Perhaps I should never have shown you...""No! No, you should." Oh my God, he's emotionally damaged. Why do I feel funny in the no-no place again? "If we're going to be honest with one another..."He grabs my shoulders. "Oh Hanna," he murmurs. "Are you sure?""Yes," I groan. "Yes, yes - I'm sure. I don't care. I only want you."Oh my. He's close, so close. My lips are on fire and my heart in my mouth. His hand spreads covetously over my behind and then...oh my dear God...a slap."Giddy up, girl," he whispers, in a voice that just about melts the nylon lace off my panties."Are you going to make love to me now, Mr. Neigh?" I whimper.He shakes his head. "I don't make love," he rasps. "I clop - hard."