Wednesday, 13 September 2017

Pondering the imponderable

As I approach my 59th birthday, my troubled mind increasingly dwells on a range of imponderable questions. If you can, please ease my mental anguish by suggesting answers to any of the following:

  1. What possesses some people to pursue a career in chiropody?
Do they have a foot fetish? Or perhaps they harbour masochistic tendencies, relishing the prospect of a life spent on their knees wrestling with foot odour, nail clippings and flaky gunge?

  1. Why are testicles crinkly?
Crinkles add flavour to my packet of salt-and-vinegar crisps/chips, but what do they do for those two orbs swinging – ever lower – between my legs? (Apart from making shaving a precarious activity).

  1. Why does my soap dish not have a hole in the bottom?
It seems obvious, doesn’t it? In the shower, work up a lather, drop soap back in its dish and, by the time you grope for it again, it remains firm, all the excess water having drained away. Instead, when I reach for my bar of Imperial Leather it often feels like I’m dipping my fingers into a frothy cesspool.

  1. Why do doctors in the gastro-intestinal department all have fingers the width of telegraph poles?
Is it an essential requirement of the job of the colon doctor to own a forefinger the size and consistency of a log? Last month, when I suffered the finger-up-the-bum check, it felt as if I’d been sodomised with the serrated trunk of a sturdy oak?

  1. Why do restaurant waiters often wear polyester shirts?
Those fine young men who ferry my ale, wine and Beef Madras to my table do a wonderful job for which I’m eternally grateful. In the course of a typical day they must walk miles to satiate the appetites of their customers. And naturally they sweat a lot. So why in the name of all that’s holy do many opt to wear polyester or nylon shirts? A perspiration-and-plastic combination smells like someone’s been boiling cabbage in a communal latrine.

  1. Why does my willy shrivel during a hospital investigation? 
I’m confident that my wand is, at least, an average size. When I inspect myself in the mirror after my morning shower, (and when I go to the loo, get dressed, go to bed, get up in the morning) it hangs out like a real cool dude. So why when I drop my briefs in front of female nurses during a hospital examination does it get all bashful and recoil into my abdomen, leaving something resembling a desiccated strawberry? 

These are the crucial questions that torment me. Can you please give me respite by providing some answers?

Photos courtesy of :
1. imagerymajestic at   
2. Nat_Sticker at