Phirmosis
Many moons ago, a young and sexually precocious man named Chexworth found he could not do it with the ladies.

The reason? Phirmosis - an excess of foreskin. A fact discovered during the already nerve-wracking act of virginity loss, not helped by the lady in question, eight years his senoir and in possesion of levels of tact that make Prince Phillip look like the head of the Commission for Racial Equality, saying: 'You need to get that checked out' before donning her clothes and walking out.

Now, young Chexworth went for a consultation only to be told that he would have to wait nearly 7 months for his op (a popular proceedure amongst those of the Jewish faith.)

During this time he met and fell for a very nice French girl who, after several abortive attempts at the physical act of love, broke up with him citing 'no real specific reason' for her actions.

Cue Mr Chexworth's decent into emo levels of desperation and despair - not helped by the fact that the surgeon chose her cases on a priority basis and didn't regard his problem as particularly life-threatening. Only after an abusive call from the young man's mother telling her that he had now become clinically depressed and was self-harming did she conclude that perhaps it was more of a priority for him than she'd first imagined.

An appointment was arranged within a few weeks and the surgeon - the delightfully monikered Dr Blades (unfortuantely she didn't have the Edward Scissorhands I had expected) performed the operation.

Cue many weeks of agonising recovery including:
-A friendly nurse being told to 'Shut the fuck up and concentrate' as she tried to make conversation while examining little Chexworth, an act which caused levels of pain which made bright lights dance in his vision.
-the removal of the bandages in a salt bath where the young man got his first look at his butchered appendage (black and swollen and resembling nothing of the mighty device of his memory) and laughing out loud in a way reminiscient of the scene where the Joker first asks for the mirror in Batman.
-waking in the middle of the night with the pleasantly warm sensation of what is euphimistically described as 'morning glory', only for that to be replaced by the screaming agony as stiches pop and blood soaks the sheets.

All in all, an unpleasant experience, both physically and psychologically.

But it's many years later and all's well - and i've done it with lots of girls now.


No apologies - surgically enhanced for length, girth and performance.
(Chexworth will one day make Yoko Matsugane his bride..., Fri 14 Jul 2006, 11:21, Reply)