Another moment of groundbreaking television took place last night when, right slap bang in the middle of your average households meal time we were bought the news item on Muzza, the dog that had his man berries removed. Which in itself is nothing to report on but just in case you hadn't regurgitated all that you'd eaten at this stage, we got to see him have implants tacked on in their place.
Now I could start on a serious thing about just how this shit gets on the news ahead of any number of world events that are far more newsworthy, but I won’t. Instead, let me ask of you a few pertinent questions:
a) Do you walk around looking dog’s bollocks?
b) If you do would you then own up to being someone who checks out dogs balls by pointing out that you've just seen one that doesn't have any?
c) Even if you did do all of the above, do you think the dog that you've just seen without any gives a shit?
Who thinks this shit up, I mean really? Who decided that there was a market for silicon testes on dogs? Emasculated owners who worry that a lack of plums on their pets might reflect badly on people’s opinions of theirs, that’s who. Hey, these teabags wouldn't fly if there wasn't a market for them would they? And so there we have it, final proof then that pet worship has finally crossed the boundary of compulsive obsessive to downright disturbing.
The only thing that could make this any worse is if we were to presume that the reason the guy wants his four legged friend to have gnad implants is so that he can feel them banging against his............nah, lets not go there.
Now admittedly I'm awfully fond of our two cats but I'm not so obsessed with their well being that I'm about to attach a couple of ping pong balls between their legs. Especially not on our female cat and not just because she's a girl, but because it's just too fucken much. It's a sad day when our own physical neuroses are passed to our pets. What's next aye, false teets on bitches?
Maybe I'm just a little 'teste' about testes. I think it all harks back to the day I was visiting the type of medical facility - for reasons we won't go into - where a fella can whack one out into a cup and not only will he not get into trouble for it, he'll be thanked for not spilling any over the side! Incidentally the set up at these types of places is usually a lazy boy off in a small room with a selection of stick mags and a box of tissues. Tough break if print porn is not your thing but great news if you have a tissue fetish.
I actually stumbled upon the room when looking for the toilet because strangely enough it makes up part of the mens room - you walk through the mastabatorium to get to the pisser. Funny thing was after finding the reading material next to the tissues I didn't really need to go pee any more....
But the real highlight of the visit was the consultation with some doctor whose name escapes me – probably due to the traumatic moment I am about to describe - but I suspect it was either 'Fingers' or 'Peter File'. His party trick was a surprise teste inspection that he decided would be prudent 10 minutes into our consultation and even before I could quip something witty like 'Doc I thought you were crazy but now I can see you're nuts', he had mine in his hands which the bastard never washed before he started.
To add insult to injury he made some passing comment about them being smaller than usual but to this day I stand by my reasons for them being so which were threefold; it was cold in his office, I had a massive pube on and yours would be too if some guy you had only just met started fondling yours.
Maybe I should think about implants....
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