» Now, there was no need for that...

Is there really any need?
A couple of years ago I was recovering under the care of the lovely people of Kingston Hospital after my appendix burst in my body and it hurt lots, etc etc. It was a strange operation because for some reason my appendix was a lot higher than most people's, almost midway to my ribcage.

Anyways, I woke up after my operation rather groggy from all the painkillers they'd pumped me full of, and the first thing I saw was the shredded remains of my boxer shorts hanging over the back of the chair by my bed. Rather than simply asking me to remove the garment before being wheeled into the operating theatre, the devious chaps had waited until after I'd gone under and deftly sliced them off with a scalpel.

That's not all though. Despite the fact that due to my high appendix, the incision was made quite a distance away from my, erm, 'package', the doctors clearly had a good sense of humour, as they'd shaved my delicates. Not all of my delicates, mind. Just the right hand side of them. My penis looked like tthe guitarist from bloody 'Blondie'. There really was no need for that. On the other hand, you may have heard that shaving that area makes everything look rather more 'impressive', so I would only allow my girlfriend to view me from the right hand side for a few weeks after that.

I did get my favourite photo of myself ever out of the situation, though. It's a shot from behind of me standing out in the ambulance area, wearing one of those funky hospital gowns. My arse cheeks are hanging out in the cold autumn air, I have two stands either side of me with drips leading into each arm, and I'm puffing frantically on a Marlboro Red. Champion.
(Thu 16th Jun 2005, 15:26, More)

» I was drunk when I bought this

Is this even legal?
I was on a gap year in Australia, and decided to pop down to King's Cross, infamous for it's sleazy strip bars and, ahem, 'ladies of the night'. I'd been drinking schooners of Oz-beer Toohey's New all day and wrapped up with several tequila's at a local backpackers haunt called The Scubar. Needless to say by the time I'd gotten to King's Cross I was absolutely smashed.

When I woke up the next morning I found myself naked, in a puddle of my own vomit, in a hostel that certainly wasn't my own. My wallet, phone, and my watch were all gone. My friends related to me that I'd acquired the services of a prostitute to 'make sure I get to sleep all right' before dissapearing into the night with her. Clearly by passing out I'd negated the need for her to help me sleep, and after I'd passed out she'd nicked the lot. So, in my drunken stupor, I had purchased a thieving whore, and I hadn't even intended to shag her.
(Mon 13th Jun 2005, 16:26, More)