Pulled off at half time

It is with more than a few reservations that I compose this little essay. It alludes to certain activities that some of you may find distasteful. Please prepare yourselves for this. It is never my object to attract readership by describing the sordid, but I do have a keen sense of duty, and know that I carry a heavy burden of expectation.
I have done my best to discourage young people of my acquaintance, and of a largely American disposition, from witnessing the disagreeable spectacle of what is commonly called “the Superbowl”.
I have few regrets about king George’s clever and well-informed decision to allow the religious loonies to go their own way. As in most things, the benefits of his wisdom have been demonstrated over time. I do, however, have misgivings about the failure to instruct these poor folk in the basic elements of cricket and rugby union, and consequently they have been left to their own devices when it comes to playing sport.
What a sorry collection of third rate games they have come up with. They are too far gone now for us to change them, I think. We even sent Mr Beckham to help, but even his towering intelligence was of no avail. A deluded Texan named Stanford then thought that he could buy “cricket” – and would make it a game suitable for the American market, but only if he changed all the rules. Pillock.
So, once a year, American ex-pats, many of whom have almost been converted to accepting Western culture, revert to their Neanderthal type and stay up all night watching what can only be described as nonsense, even by the kindest of observers.
Congratulations, then, to the folks at Club Jenna, who managed to introduce a few seconds of culture to the televised proceedings yesterday. The cheap, distasteful and despicable filth that I feel obliged to display here:

was interrupted by a short documentary film made on behalf of Club Jenna.
I did not, of course, watch the broadcast, but am informed by the BBC that it comprised of "a woman unzipping a man's trousers, followed by a graphic act between the two."
I am pleased that my friends in the United States were able to see the results of cooperation between friends. I am a firm (missus) believer that our cultures have much to teach each other, and welcome enterprises of this sort.
I am not entirely sure what the BBC meant by “graphic”. I assume that it means explicit or vivid. Perhaps they thought that the makers of the film were being a little patronising, but I can see little harm in emphasising clarity, even at the risk of offending those who are slightly quicker on the uptake. Perhaps they meant, more literally, that the gentleman had some sort of written instructions to aid his partner in whatever “act” took place. I am not sure why he could not convey these directives orally, there may have been good reason, but I am sure that they were helpful.
If, for example, the young lady was learning to suck a toffee (some of you may know what was actually portrayed, but I am sure that the advice is still relevant), commands such as “give it a good lick before you start”, “don’t use your teeth”, “try to make it last as long as you can”, whether written or spoken would be invaluable.