|Courtesy of Salvatore Vuono at |
- When I sit on the toilet my balls plunge into the water like depth-charges; if there are any enemy submarines stupid enough to be lurking in my lavatory bowl they do not stand a chance.
- In comparison, they make my manhood appear even smaller than it is, like a shrivelled slug perched on a hideously obese torso.
- At times my oversized bollocks are inclined to spill out the sides of my off-white Jockey briefs and fuse to my thighs. Walking any distance with these gonadal flaps can chaff terribly, particularly on a hot day.
- If my jeans are too tight my gonads are prone to tunnel around the back, rendering them vulnerable to crushing when I sit down. (And ladies, if you think childbirth is painful you know nothing!)
- On those carefree summer holidays when I don the speedos I appear to be cultivating a grotesque hernia; as I walk poolside, the kids scatter, traumatised by the monstrous, misshapen blob protruding from my gusset while their sympathetic parents vacate their sunbeds and encourage me to rest.
- I suffered extreme embarrassment prior to my vasectomy, the pre-op shave representing a formidable challenge; imagine scraping a razor over two rutted, water-filled balloons and you’ll be getting close.