this one is me
some ladies will tell you about a condition called 'vulval vestibulitis', which is basically when your bits get a bit tender and your body, for some reason, registers every touch as 'PAIN'. I suffered from this for a while, caused wholly by a GPs misdiagnosis of something as pedestrian and therefore causing this horrendous side effect.

Vigorous sex becomes the stuff of nightmares.
Ever had a FISSURE in your privates?

*winces from memory*
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 9:39, Reply)

Giving birth hurts
Giving birth to my overly large son wasn't a pleasant experience. After being advised that the doctor was going to have to 'make a little cut' so there was more room to insert the salad server style forceps, I reluctantly agreed asking that if he was going to give me one large hole rather than the regulation two perhaps he could do that in just one cut? 'Yes, yes, of course' he says, whilst happily rumaging at the foot end of the bed going 'snip snip snip'. Understandably annoyed, I chose to ignore the large snapping sound I heard as my child was finally wrenched from my poor wrecked lady bits. I found out the next day that the snapping was my coccyx breaking, resulting in me being unable to sit up straight for three months and an unusual feeling of it wobbling around when I sit on a hard surface. Still, in my traumatized mind I like to pretend the snapping noise was just a doctor putting on their gloves. Denial is my friend.
(Mooma, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 9:35, Reply)

A Life Lesson
By Elle Toupee.

Gentlemen, lady bits are trecherous. They make us do stupid things (and people), we're pressured to groom them in a manner Torquemada would be proud of, and when we get a wedgie, it runs from the navel to the small of the back.
And are we saved pain and torture in the front bottom department by virtue of our astounding abilities to bring life into this world?

The fuck we are!

Life lesson number one: A hand-me-down bike with no brakes will stop very quickly at the bottom of a steep hill when it encounters a parked car.

Life lesson number two: landing on the crossbar of a boys' ten-speen bike and landing smack on your holiest-of-holies is something you'll not want to be doing twice.

Life lesson number three: Never trust your older sister's abilities to perform brake maintenance.
(Elle Toupee, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 9:22, Reply)

hockey on a bumpy pitch
the period was just about to end, and for most of the games lesson we had been hitting the ball as hard as we could at each other, due to a lack of a teacher nearby on a very large school field.

ant smacked the ball toward granny, who, upon seeing a small hard white thing break the sound barrier, jumped to avoid the incoming.

at this point the ball hit a lump of earth and sprang up - connecting precisily with grannys nuts as granny was two foot off the ground.

i suppose the ball would have hit him square in the chest if he hadnt jumped.

or he could have moved to the side.
(magictorch, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 9:01, Reply)

I burnt my arse via a meat-based drink
A member of my family used to have a liking for bowls of Bovril - that popular beef beverage - with chunks of bread soaked into it.
Not the most fancy of meals I know, but then again he was a bit of a cunt.

One day he made said 'meal' in a large pyrex dish and left it on a dining room chair while he got a spoon.

Enter the five year old me not looking where I sat down

Result?
One slightly scalded, beef flavoured Boss Mew arse, a pissed off hungry family member and squishy bovril infused chunks of bread clinging to my rump

Luckily there was no permenant physical damage. Although I've never drunk Bovril since
(Boss Mew Covfefe does not bargain...it only covfefes., Wed 19 Jul 2006, 8:41, Reply)

The size of rockmelons
I was playing a game of football with my school mates in primary school.
I'd scored a goal, which was quite rare for me as I am not the most sporting kind of person and I was still 'high' from the goal I had scored.
While I was thinking about the awesomeness of my goal kicking skills I failed to see Neville, my arch nemisis infront of me lining up the ball for a killer kick.
Last thing I remember hearing is laughter.
All I really remember is a whitehot pain in the nadgers, everything going in slow motion...including the ground coming up to me at a fast pace, and losing my breath.

I scored a direct hit the testicles.

Now this was no ordinary hit, this was akin to a sledge hammer smashing down on an orange, I was in so much pain my headmaster had to carry me back to the classroom whilst I hyperventilated.

My mother was phoned with the good news that her son had become a eunuch and that she better get me to a doctor pretty fast.

While I was waiting for her to arrive, my testicles started to get bigger and bigger, like seriously huge.
To the point that I had to take my tighty whities off and keep my shorts unbuttoned at the top.

I limp to her car and get taken to the doctors, his first response was "Woah, I have never seen testicles that swollen before", which was really comforting for a 10 year old.

After he stuck a torch onto them to view the fluid build up in my balls, his advice to me was to take long hot baths to reduce the swelling, coupled with regular doses of asprin as it's a good anti-inflammatory.

Now this is where I just cringe everytime I think about it.

He also told me that if the swelling had'nt noticeably reduced in a weeks time that I would have to come back in and he'd have to, and I quote, "Drain the fluid with a syringe", and proceeded to show me the worlds biggest hypodermic needle.

I started to cry.

During that week I bathed pretty much all day in a hot bath and sneakily took asprin between doses.

My nuts went small enough not to drain them.

This was 19 years ago and I am overly cautious not to get my boys hit with anything these days.
(sinewriter, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 5:40, Reply)

That came from my goat..??
I once owned an evil bad tempered goat, all crazy eyed and hoofed like the devil it was. Any way, I had a pen outside for it were I would feed it whole lemons and various garbage ( Much to the amusement of me and my stoner mates ) One night I fell really sick with a fever so took myself to the hospital where the doctor found a massive tick on my ballsack. Youch! This variety, he told me would have come from a goat for sure. To make things worse, in the middle of the night, in my semi-concious state of sickness I grabbed my 'ball ointment' thinking it was water and drank half of it (In TWO swigs, with a breate in between)Had to be rushed to the emergency room where I stayed for two days verging on death.

Incidentally, I have now taken the enclosure down and have my goats head tied to a breeze block so he cant move around that much.
I still feed him lemons.
(semtec, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 4:55, Reply)

Thank Brian it wasn't me...
So it's many moons ago, and I'm playing with mates at lunch time, we're on the courts and there're two metal posts with upturned hooks on them for securing a volleyball net. My mates climbed one of said poles and is doing a monkey impression when he slips and slides down the pole. He does the usual dancing around and laughing abit of all prepubesent boys that have taken a not to heavy hit to the balls. Then his face changes and he runs inside. For the next five minutes or so we can hear very disturbing screaming coming from inside the school. Screaming is suddenly cut short, this was apparently the games teacher doing a mercy spark the poor boy out as they wait for ambulance, for yes he had ripped his bollocks clean off.

I think my favourite part of this story is even though this was in the days when teachers could give you a bit of a slap, knockig students clean out was frowned upon to say the least, the knock out punch was considered fine by all concerned though.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 2:44, Reply)

There a doctor in the house?
Spanglemonkey, tell that kid to take two Advil in suppository form and make sure he puts them in the right hole.
(not-a-brit Just another reason to bomb Lithuania, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 2:43, Reply)

The Wank-hole
An acquaintance of mine was bullying a boy one day at primary for not knowing what wanking was. The boy became quite vehement that he did so my friend decided to tell him that you needed a wank-hole, which he described as a hole through your scrotum, just below the balls, before you could actually wank. The boy became annoyed, and went off to create himself such a hole. With a sharp pencil. He actually, managed it, I'm told, and didn't discover he was being wound up until his parents caught sight of his wound a few days later.
(spanglemonkey, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 1:46, Reply)

OK, another "not me, but...."
And this, I swear, I found by doing a search of scientific journals for the phrase "rectal foreign bodies" some time ago. If you have access to full-text versions of Elsevier publications, give it a go.

Anyway, one story amongst many was of a man who came in to hospital with some major bottom trauma. The reason? Not the oven-glove he'd shoved up his botty. Oh no.

The damage was caused by the wooden spoon he'd used to ram it in.
(Fat Bear is adjusting your breasts on, Wed 19 Jul 2006, 0:06, Reply)

Electric fences?
It is quite fantastically funny watching a friend realise as he gets halfway over a fence that it is in fact an electric fence, not just a normal variety, through the medium of his bollocks...

Luckily I didn't see it personally, only the person in question a few minutes later, but apparently it also hurts when you pee on electric fences too... He id have a nice John Wayne style walk for a while afterwards

David
(442, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 22:12, Reply)

Lady's front bottom anguish.
Every four weeks I pay to lie in a tiny cubicle with my knickers off as a middle aged woman spreads red hot wax over my lady parts and then rips the hairs out.

It hurts. A lot.

Occasionally, little blobs of wax get left behind, unbeknown to me. Naturally, I get dressed and go on my merry way after paying through the nose to have this torture.

I forget the pain until I go to the loo only to find my knickers have become attached firmly to my lady bits via the blobs of wax the beautician/torturer has missed. I find out only when I have to pull my knickers down... ooooh it comes sharp!

I'm not even sure why I bother as no one else sees it but me these days :(

I wish I was a man. Or had a man. Sigh.
(Just a girl., Tue 18 Jul 2006, 20:56, Reply)

High- school chum of mine...
..was having a wank when the most unlikely and painful of disasters struck- his fingernail comes stuck in his foreskin and a lot of blood and pain ensues. So he tries to remove his nail(and Finger)from the foreskin but finds it too painful, and by this time there's a lot of blood. Everywhere. So he has to call his mum in to take him to hospital, unable to pull up his pants and still half clutching and half being tangled up in his own knob.

He looked so ashamed after telling us this that another mate of mine- feeling sorry for the chap said that he "Fingered {his} bum, up to here" Indicating his knuckles. Course everyone laughed an got back to Mr Foreskin.

I still wonder what he says to women when they ask "So why are you circumsised?"

As for length I heard his was only a 5.5 inch bone. And that was before.
( Paedosmile service with a grin., Tue 18 Jul 2006, 20:23, Reply)

fence
Picture the scene.. 12 years old .. brand new mountain bike .. showing it off to friends. Gave one of said friends a 'backie' (they sit on the seat, i pedal standing up). Came down a hill, which had one of those zig zag special ramps for bikes to go up and down. Decided to do the usual rear brake skid into the corner. Pulled left brake hard. I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of brake cable snapping, which gave my mind just enough time to contemplate the situation before I barelled straight into a fence with enough inertia to do an asteroid proud.

Balls made contact with handlebars and face made contact with fence. Second most painful experience. Barely had enough time to register the pain before I realised friend was behind me and had not hit yet... then came first most painful experience.
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 19:38, Reply)

climbing frames of death....
When my sister was about 3 i used to take her across the road to my mates back garden where her garden was huge.

She has an old climbinng frame left by the old family and my sister decided to climb on it buck naked. after being warned that this was probably a bad idea she promptly fell on her naked arse and fell on a pole and cut her little bits.

blood everywhere, naked child running around, my mate trying not to laugh and her mum having to wrap my sister in a blanket and taking her round home where she had to sit in a cold bath for an hour.
( squiddylyd Once you pop you can't stop!, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 18:14, Reply)

Blessed Relief
Undressing in the dark is a dangerous thing. I didn't trip and injur myself (did that last night & broke a couple of toes). This was a while back, after an evening of weed, beer and playstation. Being rather wasted, I staggered upstairs to join my beloved for some sweet shut-eye. I left the light off so as not to disturb the princess while I undressed. Settling under the duvet, I adopted the usual sleeping pose (one hand on crotch) when I noticed a strange shape on the side of little Greencloud. Long story short (it's 17:30 and I'm going home) I spent about twenty minutes contemplating how I would break the news of penile cancer to my fiancee when the 'lump' I was fingering suddenly burst in my hand. Cue a rush to the bathroom and the title feeling when I realised that what had burst was the mother of all zits and not the cock-eating galloping knob-rot I had feared. Moral of the story? sweaty balls aren't just off-putting to ladyfolk, they're bloody dangerous!
Please excuse the length, it's frequently washed.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 17:34, Reply)

Not me this time but still in Smogland
A house mate of mine at Uni had a habit of picking up the skankiest slappers he could get for a bottle of Lambrini, because of this he had a season ticket for the GUM clinic. Not a fortnight went by without him coming home with a dose of crabs (once in his eyebrows which doesn't bear thinking about).

This state of affairs probably would have continued for the rest of the year if it wasn't for his habit of constantly whinging about his self-inflicted discomfort (I think he was an early Emo, he did like the Smiths)

We decided the easiest way to prevent his ongoing problems was to the 'total deforestation' approach, the tube of ointment he had to treat the infestation was of the foil variety which, when you fully unroll it is open at the end, this made it easy to subtitute the contents for Immac (long before it became Veet).

Apparently our friends four doors down heard his screams.... One day I'll read those instructions about skin sensitivity he threw at us, I was too busy laughing at the time.

It did fix his problem, he was too paranoid to risk catching another dose.

Apologies but the length does get shorter as you use the ointment up.
(Cliche Guevara Predicatably revolutionary since, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 17:04, Reply)

Mr Oates is is big fat wuss!
Having had 3 kids on the National Health I know what it is to feel more pain that I ever though possible and loose all dignity. This is why I have little sympathy with the debacle detailed below.

Now read on.......

After having had 3 kids we found out what was causing them, and as a vasectomy is a far simpler procedure than female sterilisation I voted for Mr Oates to be 'seen to by the vet'. As Mr Oates didn't fancy having no sex forever he eventually gave in and agreed to be snipped.

Off he trundles to the local hospital to have the dirty deed done. Did I mention that Mr Oates is a big fat wuss who is scared of *deep intake of breath* everything medical that might, possibley, maybe hurt even a little bit.

When he'd not come home after a couple of hours I was beginning to wonder where he was. Then my Dad appeared on my doorstep looking like death and telling me to sit down as he had something to tell from the hospital

............... 'Holy Cow' I thought 'the dozey bastards died of a vasectomy!!'

I couldn't be that lucky. My Dad's strange expression was because he was trying not to piss himself laughing. Apparently every time the surgeon came towards him with the scalpel Mr Oates fainted dead away. They had to bring him round three times in the end.

Mr Oates had put my Dad down as next of kin in case of emergencies (I was at home with small children and he'd taken the car with him) and the hospital rang Dad to collect said wussy husband.

In the end they sedated Mr Oates to get the op done, but because he'd never taken anything stronger than junior asprin he was smashed out of his tree when he came home.

The sight of him staggering down the drive like John Wayne after a bottle of Jack Daniels will warm my heart forever :-)
(Dozey Oates is off to Merkinland soon (:, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 17:03, Reply)

At school...
...we were going through a wedgie phase. This involved sneaking up behing your unsuspecting victim, grabbing the visible part of their pants and pulling as hard as possible, therefore forcing the gusset of their pants up their arse crack. It could be quite painful.

Well, Jessie had been getting a bit good at this, so three of us ambushed him and all grabbed his pants at the same time, pulling hard enough to lift him off the ground. After a second, his pants game way and tore, and he fell forward with the waistband of his pants now detatched and hanging out.

Onlookers said that it was funny watching a seriously pissed of guy limping as fast as possible at a group of three others who were trying to run while doubled over in laughter.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Tue 18 Jul 2006, 16:47, Reply)

It still brings tears to the eyes....
Many moons ago when I was at the University of Smogland (Middlesborough) I had arranged at dirty weekend meet up with my then girlfriend who was working back up in civilisation (Newcastle).

Being young and away from the g/f is a hard thing in more than one way so when she phoned and said "I have a stinking cold I don't think I should come down this weekend" it took all my powers of persuasion to say "damn the cold! I'll take that risk"

Anyway to cut a long story short, after much tea and sympathy, followed by vodka and lemsip cocktails she seemed back to her normal self, namely hornier than a Rhino's nose.

At this point her head proceeded southwards, I was thinking the weekend was turning out better than I'd hoped when she let out an almighty sneeze and her jaw clamped shut on my tackle, cue searing agony that could only be equalled by listening to 35 hours of Chris Moyles.

It not easy to stagger to A&E with your knob dripping blood and snot encrusted pubes. I still have top and bottom scars to this day.

Apologies for length, they managed to graft it back on.
(Cliche Guevara Predicatably revolutionary since, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 16:44, Reply)

Paintball
There's probably hundreds in this section about it, but hell i'm gonna post one...

Usual Saturday with the paintballing lot, having a laugh as you do. Personally i'm never one for all the protective gear, the more pain you feel, the more likely you are to get out of the way than to stand there and think "screw it" (Obviously, mask yes, eyes required). Anyway so we go through the day, nothing much, get hit a few times, bruise, ow, never mind, then in the very last round, i'm crouched behind a barrel, i get the sharp stinging sensation in the arse, the kind that says "some sneaky git is behind you". I turn as you do, not willing to admit defeat as the judge obviously hadn't spotted it. So now, sat on the floor, back to the barrel, you can imagine where the next 2 shots landed, square in the crotch. Much screaming, shouting, and generally making said opponents life hell later, i hobbled from the field, crotch in hand, tears in eyes, and wondering "where the hell can i buy a cup round here"...
(Phaeron in your base since, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 16:30, Reply)

Wee nipper
Another fun filled agony related memory:

late 80's, metalhead in sunny Edinburgh. All my mates were musos or crap attempted musos (me) and regularly congregated at someones house to torture cats (well, that's what a neighbour said it sounded like, and this is in a country that claims to enjoy the bagpipes).

I am reclined at my ease, perusing a back issue of Kerrang (probably) while some of the other lads debated a great moral issue of the day, such as were Suicidal Tendencies(the best) better than whoever etc etc.

At this point my DFB (Dumb Fucking Blonde) GF decides that I wasn't paying her enough attention and decides to grab my scrote.

With a pair of big fuck-off pliers.

The resulting blood blisters and oddly shaped, even abstract bruising were much admired later, together with the nice baldie patch where the pubes had been wrenched out.

At the time, the vocals were something like "WHATHEFUAAAIIEEEEEEEBITCH" as the precious hairy objects firmly held by the cruelly serrated steel jaws attempted to withdraw into the safety of my abdomen, while the rest of my body was rocketing skywards in a bid for freedom. So the old scroty was under some considerable distress and tension, especially when the DFB lets go, and said pliers are hanging free.

Heavy things, pliers. Try this at home if you don't believe me.

I was restrained from garrotting DFB with a guitar string and limped home to survey the damage and apply Birdseye's finest field fresh to my violated spuds.

The DFB in question did have one god-given talent: she could suck start a Harley Davidson. Even with this available in lengthy, guiltily slurping sessions on demand, it was a few days before she was granted access all areas again.

And when she was permitted to display her skills, as she got into top gear the damaged bits (now the colour of a baboons arse) get turned into a hairy punchbag. Dilemma - continue with pain/pleasure mixture until I could hopefully come in her hair in revenge, or opt for plan B and lie in a foetal position cradling my now glowing sack and gibbering?

The relationship did not last.

Got her hair though.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 16:16, Reply)

Just the other day...
I was out playing football on Sunday, and someone takes a shot on goal. Cue me catching it an inch or two above my nether regions.

Two minutes later, another shot on goal. This time I was turned 90 degrees, and it bounced right off my hip.

I should have taken the hint, and in the second half took another shot to the crotch, thankfully not full force. Stung for a moment -- but if i was an inch taller I'm sure I'd have doubled over. Played on a bit more even though I was in a bit of pain. No one wants to get sent off like that.

"Hope you're ok tomorrow morning!" my teammates wished.

"It could have been much worse if it wasn't for my enormous cock!"
( Foxglove -- it all ends in tears anyway..., Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:53, Reply)

My mum in law
knows a doctor who gave himself a vasectomy on his kitchen table. Apparently he ended up in hospital anyway, because it bled a bit more that he thought it would do.
(8-Ball, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:49, Reply)

Fragrant Flutulence
Me: "Do you reckon if I spray air-freshner up my bum, my farts will smell like apples?"
Bro: "Don't know."
Me: "May as well try."
***Shhhhhhhtt***
Me: "Oooooooowwwwwwwwww it burns! It burns!"
Bro: "Ha ha ha ha, gufwaw gufwaw."

The End
(lardaholics anonymous, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:19, Reply)

He lives there..
Again, another one of those stories that isn't mine, and if you are being pedantic, I'm guessing it didn't hurt. But it doies involve rude bits..

I went to a medical school info course at nottingham uni a couple of years ago, and we went to different talks from all these different doctors and their specialities. This Paediatrician comes on, and he's a nice bloke, blah blah workign with kids is very rewarding etcetc (not in a fiddling way though, how dare you think such thoughts) and then he goes on about his training. Apparently when he was a junior doctor this bloke comes in complaining of constipation and his abdomen is all swollen and hard. So they take him down for a scan of some kind and find he's very, very clogged. So they decide to have an explore, so he snaps on his rubber gloves, lubes up, and goes chocolate caving.
Imagine his suprise when he grabs hold of something hard, square, and removes it to find a cheap tourists imitation of nelsons column covered in faeces.
When asked about the item, the patient snatches it out of the doctors hand, and rapidly shoves it back into his rectum, screaming, "Thats Nelson, he lives up there!"
(Dovvit bee, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:18, Reply)

Circumcision from hell
Some years ago I had to have a circumcision. Being shy and retiring I didnt tell my housmates and went off to hospital (on my bike. Dont try it). Anyway I woke up from the anaesthetic and had a quick look at my membr. It had a litle bandage at the end and when I pulled it open it looked like someone had strimmed the end of my cock.

Anyway as I was recovering I began to wonder what would happen to my cock if I were to get an erection while the stitches were it. Would it explode or something?

Needless to say as I went back home the only thing I was worrying about was getting an erection. So back home I thought lets get pissed! Then Im certain to fall asleep and I wont be getting a hard on. Half a pint of vodka later I fell asleep to wake up an hour later with the biggest fucking hard on Ive ever had.

I began to seriously panic. The first thing I tried was to run to the shower and pour cold water over it. Unfortunatley the shower had a fixed head, so to get my cock under the stream of water I had to get into the bath and sort of lean backwards and poke my dick out.

The shock of the cold water on my dick made me slip in the bath and I nearly brained myself. Undeterred and still with a raging hard-on I ran downstairs to the freezer, grabbbed a bag of frozen peas and stuck them on my cock.

It was at this point that one of my housemates returned to the house and asked me why I was cowering naked in the corner of the kitchen clutching a bag of frozen peas to my cock.

I just sort of whimpered.

Anyway God bless her, she took me upstairs, tucked me into bed and made me a cup of tea.

To this day I remember the senstation of plucking frozen peas off my wounded cock under the blankets as she left the room.

Doesnt get much sexier than that I can tell you.
(tonyhrx, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:08, Reply)

Hardest Core Masturbator in the West
A friend works in AE.

He had to treat a guy who had been out clubbing with his girlfriend and got twisted on uppers downers and everything else he could get his hands on. Getting home his GF passes out on him and he decides to stick on a porno, and crack one off. A trip to casualty later and he has been going for hours, and is in A&E still completely off his bonce, whilst his girlfriend has come round after a bit of sleep and is trying to hide in shame at the back of the cubicle. He had inflicted 3rd degree friction burns which basically means he masturbated his penis away, and it'll never work again.
And that boys and girls, is commitment.
(ftumch, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:05, Reply)

Nobby Stiles
My second Glastonbury festival. In those days I was a bit nesh, and not really looking forward to visiting festival toilets, so I think to myself, it's only three days, I'll wait until I get home to let the brown trout out. This I managed without too much discomfort as I was mostly living on a diet of alcohol, chemicals, herbs and fungus, and I made it hom without mishap. It was with a certain amount of relief that I lowered myself onto the bowl, and I felt a few gentle twinges back there before all hell broke loose. It was like being raped backwards - the thing must have been about four inches in diameter and a good three feet long, and as my poor nipsy had been tightly clenched for the whole weekend, it didn't have a lot of give in it. After panting, struggling, gasping, waving my arms around ineffectually and straining, I eventually persuaded my sphincter to stretch around the monster log and after the last splash I went to tenderly dab the affected area with some bog roll. Turns out Mr Poo had thought he might be a bit lonely in the outside world, and so had brought down a couple of friends to see him off, Mr and Mrs Bumgrapes. I think I was only 17 at the time and having to go and get them checked (with a finger up the bum) by the doctor was one of the most embarassing days of my life.

Kids - festival toilets may be awful, but bear in mind this cautionary tale next time you're tempted to "pinch the fig" - it's just not worth it in the long run.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 15:03, Reply)