IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history's Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and oodles more frisky cunnilingus contests.

Disaster! Two hundred superb Royal Marines Sex Commandos with superb-er patoots have carved a gorgeous highway through France and into Imperatrix Bardot's luscious boudoir, to dissuade her from submerging Earth under a THIRD Vaginal Apocalypse.

But out-flirting the Imperatrix is like handjobbing Mt. Blanc (a cornerstone of Sex Commando training, but ever wanked off a mountain when it's wanking you back? Want to? Read on, young padawan).

One escapee: a rad Mississippi hotshot/lunkhead named Charlie. Now what? Rescue chums alone? Impossible! But his priceless Froggy intel might just swing this third Vaginal Apocalypse Britain's way.

Only one route Home. Penetrate France's imminent Brit invasion and its million-maiden cannon fodder first wave: the notorious SOVIET SLUTS SUPERB. Blend in, head down, yap shut, avoid heat.

Charlie instead falls in love and/or bar-room brawls with every French Army hotshot in his path. His new Froggy pals proclaim him the Seminal Sorceror, Louisiana's fightin' finest.

Army prodigies thirst to marry and/or enslave him. With each fresh celeb challenger, Charlie's hopes of vanishing into the Soviet Sluts Superb and Home wilt by the second.

Plan B, then? Harness his newfound fame into actually leading the Invasion? Amass enough celeb clout to charge Britainward before Paris's pursuing police close in for the kill?

What's the worst that could happen?