It's All Balls
Being an honest sort of chap I've often shared just a little too much information with work colleagues (I won't call them mates as there's only a couple of people at work I'd like to shag and none of them are in my department). Consequently I have regaled colleagues with lurid descriptions of three different colonoscopy procedures (that's a camera up the willy for those fortunate enough never to have had one) and a camera up the bum, complete with Picolax powered cleansing. That bloke on the cycling forum speaks the truth, let me tell you.

Recently I needed to go into hospital for an operation on my knackers. Removal of growths from the cobblers to be precise. I've had issues with the HR section at work previously (they treated me like sh*t so I kicked their arses up to their shoulder blades) so I made it clear that I would be keeping a diary of the whole event, including pictures.

Damn thing got infected, didn't it? Swelled up. Four weeks off work with sore bollocks is not pleasant, so when I returned, anyone who asked got the story in glorious technicolour...

"Here's things a few hours after the operation. See the extensive bruising and swelling on the testicles and the penis. Deep Purple on my CD player, Deep Purple between my legs."

"This is where the swelling got to its worst. For reference there's my hand around Lefty. You can see how big it is. And here's a cricket ball in comparison. Look at the two. Both have a shiny side and both have a seam."

At that point people usually retreated from my presence, looking a little green.
(Jamie and his magic bat You can bump n' grind, it is good for your mind, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 12:29, Reply)