Those who have taken the Waters before know exactly what to expect - lashings of smut, a thing about toilet mechanics and vomit.

This time round, the "Sultan of Sleaze" takes the subject of sex addiction and plants it in the apparently, erm, upstanding Baltimore suburb of Harford Road.

Prudish mum Sylvia Stickles (Ullman) is so preoccupied with work at the Pinewood Park And Pay convenience store that she can't even respond to her husband's occasional urges.

She's also saddled with exhibitionist daughter Caprice (Blair), a go-go dancer revelling under the stage name Ursula Udder and kept under lock and key in Sylvia's granny flat after a run of "nude and disorderly" violations.

All this changes when the frumpy Sylvia gets a freak knock on the head - "carnal concussion" - and is revived by tow-truck driver Ray-Ray Perkins (Knoxville).

He's a sexual healer and leads a flock of nookie addicts - ranging from a nymphomaniac traffic warden to a cop who gets kicks dressing as a baby - who plan to take the neighbourhood.

His persuasive tongue convinces Sylvia to discard her sexual straitjacket and embrace her resurgent libido... much to the dismay of the "neuters", the local moral stormtroopers determined to stamp out any lewd behaviour in the their midst.

Waters views his latest outing as a sex comedy (after the terrorist thriller Cecil B Demented) and, in a Carry On sort of a way, that's pretty much what it is.

Despite his reputation for provoking outrage, it's actually quite a gentle satire, which takes time out to poke fun at America's restrictive right when it's not cracking groan-worthy sex gags.

It's got an A-list cast - Ullman is particularly game while Blair's prodigious artificial chest is something to behold, if you also bring your peripheral vision into play.

Even Captain Cameo, David Hasselhof, is flown in for a bit of airborne constipation while Waters regulars Mink Stole and Patty Hearst are present and politically incorrect.

For Waters adherents it's business as usual while for those who think the Farrelly Brothers invented gross-out, it's an undiluted lesson in the style.

Tim Evans.