…that is the question. Well, not the question. A question. The question is probably something like ‘Why do people care so much about Made in Chelsea?’ or ‘When am I ever going to see a photo of a lion riding a horse?’
In a few months, if all goes to plan, I’ll have two sons and a daughter, which seems like a good place to stop procreating and start, y’know, actually living my life instead of making new ones. My wife, fortunately, feels the same.
Which is why, when I know that my daughter is here and fit and healthy, I’m going to be making an appointment to see my doctor so I can hand him a pair of shears and ask him to give me the snip. In fact, I might get him to lop the whole lot off and smooth it out, so my nether regions resemble that of a Barbie doll.
But why stop there? I mean, the snip is one of the best methods of birth control (more than 99% effective, in fact), but I can’t help but feel I’m missing a trick. With my testicles practically redundant – another victim of the recession – I don’t really need them at all. So let’s take them, throw them to one side (or, even better, at someone) and use the space left behind for a more useful purpose.
I could put a little zip-up pocket there, for example, in which I could keep loose change, my phone, and perhaps my keys (although they could jab into my upper thigh and cause much discomfort). It could also cause issues in shops and supermarkets when, after discovering that I’m a little short on change in my wallet, I start rummaging around in my pants at the checkout.
On the shopping theme, I could install a Bag For Life in the place where my bits once proudly sat. They last for, like, ten years or something, and would be seriously handy for carrying groceries, especially when I need my hands free for things like texting or driving. But this idea, too, has complications: a full Bag For Life would make me walk like a cowboy, and probably attract a few strange looks.
I could go for the novelty approach, of course; something to use as a conversation starter in case things go quiet in the office. I’m thinking something along the lines of a Newton’s Cradle, or flashing lights.
The possibilities are endless, it seems. Answers on a postcard – or just leave a comment; it’ll save you postage costs.