Monday, December 05, 2005

One For The Scat Fans

Last night I’m afraid I was unfortunate enough to come down with – and please permit me to slip into medical parlance for a moment – a dastardly dose of the squirts.

Now you might be thinking, where’s the blogging mileage in that? Surely this isn’t going to be another redundant rant about this awful affliction of the arse? After all, what reasonable man has any affection for the runs? Well, if Snotty were your host this evening, he may well have taken you down that particular Hershey highway, but being of a generally more upbeat nature I’d like to take this opportunity to sing the praises of the miracle cure that is Imodium.


Ode to Imodium

Imodium must be, quite simply, the greatest over-the-counter medication of all time. One single tablet of this fabulous stuff, and no longer was I making the perilous journey to the jacks in the small hours of the night with my arms cradling my cramping guts, doubled over in misery and goggle-eyed and sweaty with fear. The only thing that would have been more effective than that one pill would have been to seal my sphincter shut with an acetylene torch (a remedy I would have seriously considered had Imodium not been available).

I remember when I first discovered this magical medicine as a child. I’d come down with a cunty case of swamp arse during the summer, such that I was incapable of enjoying any seat other than the porcelain throne for more than an average of 12 minutes before having to dash off to the smallest room to violently deposit the next foul colon-load of gravy. As you can imagine, after two or three weeks of this I was quite a sight. I had lost about four and half stone and my green, clammy skin hung off my protruding cheekbones like seaweed dangling limply from a weather-beaten rock. I was quite literally shitting myself to death.


One day, my father caught sight of my ghostly visage as I crawled from the can on all fours in grim acceptance of my imminent demise, and his brow briefly furrowed. A flicker of parental concern passed across his features, and he reached for the phone. Curious, I looked up at him from the floor as he called the local health centre. One of my kids has the gutter butt, he said. Is there anything I can give it?

Oh really? Y’know, I think I have some of that, he said. He hung up and disappeared into the kitchen, returning some moments later to lay a pale yellow box and a glass of water by my head, and as soon as I regained consciousness I promptly dropped one of the tablets down my parched throat. Well, I don’t mind telling you, that one pill went to work so quick you might as well have jammed it in my anus like a big fucking cork. One tiny little dimple-packed capsule and my watery ordeal came to an abrupt end, my young life spared.

There’s probably some kind of gruesome side effect of course, but as long as it isn’t penis cancer I think it’s a small price to pay for not having to suffer the indignity of existing solely as some kind of glorified organic autobahn for splashy effluent. In reality we humans are not much more than that, of course, but a few hours between bowel movements in which to pretend my life has a purpose is all I ask. Imodium, you have granted my only wish, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Unless it’s penis cancer. Oh god, what if it’s penis cancer?

7 Mewling Pricks

At 5:28 pm, Blogger Red Egg ejaculated...

Penis Cancer huh?

Right, first off the most common link in cancer cases concerning the penis is the presence of a foreskin.

So if you're circumsized then your chances of getting cancer in your penis is very slim seeing as circumcision virtually eliminates penile carcinoma because really, developing cancer in your privates if you're an uncircumcised male has been attributed to the chronic irritative effects of "smegma", which by the way, is a by-product of bacterial action on cells that are retained within the preputial sac.

That means you're an uncircumsized dirty bastard and bacteria love you for it, therefore they have a party and they call it cancer.

Also I think you should know that chronic irritation and inflammation are often associated with cancer of the penis, keeping in mind that unless you live in Paraguay your chances of getting penis cancer is and I quote: "1 to 2 cases per 100,000 per annum" (<- if you're in the States) it varies from country to country though - obviously.

Testicular cancer, however is a totally different matter.

Ha, how's that for a crash course in penis cancer?

(On a serious note: you should be seeing your Quack every couple of months for a full on check up)

 
At 7:58 pm, Blogger Hugs O'Toole ejaculated...

Hmmmm, is this the best comment ever received at the Department?

Thanks for talking cock with us, Red.

 
At 8:29 pm, Blogger Red Egg ejaculated...

Damn straight it is.
And you're welcome. Glad I could help.

 
At 9:12 pm, Blogger 01-811-8055 ejaculated...

Hmmmm, is this the best comment ever received at the Department?

That's one way of putting it. I feel slightly queasy now.

 
At 12:57 am, Blogger Labbie ejaculated...

Do we get college credit for that cancer bit, Red Egg?

At one of the college games, here in the States, the radio announcer said, "why, he just went right through the defense like Mexican water through an American tourist!" Now, what kind of crap, no pun intended, is that?

 
At 9:54 am, Blogger Snotty McShot ejaculated...

"like Mexican water through an American tourist!"

Actually, that's pretty funny. If it helps, you can interpret it as a bit of gentle ribbing at the expense of the gastrointestinal fragility of your holidaying compatriots.

 
At 3:59 pm, Blogger Red Egg ejaculated...

" Do we get college credit for that cancer bit, Red Egg?"

Fill out a form and I'll think about it --

"like Mexican water through an American tourist!"

I have to agree, it is a stupid comment but it is rather funny when you think about it.

 

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