View
the above and gape in wonder. A backpack fashioned in glorious ‘scrotex’. Note
the texture of the wrinkled retainer. Imagine being the proud owner of a
capacious load of bollocks strapped snugly upon your back in resplendent array. Delight in the rugose texture and hair sprouts. Express delight at the symmetry
and attention to detail. When applying pressure to the blue vein it instantly
drains of synthetic corpuscles. What more do you want of a scrotum cum bag?
The
inventor of the ‘scrote tote’ hopes to manufacture copious amounts of the
product and sell to them to the discerning punter for $120- that represents
$65 a bollock. A handy receptacle for seamen (geddit? What a load of rollicks):
contact the navy; contact my psychiatrist (Prof Mugumbo, 100 guineas an hour).
This product should not be kept under wraps. It needs to spread its elastic
tissue and soar in the wind like a winged scrotal thingy.
All
this brings me neatly to my own testicular story. When I was a young spunker I basted/boasted
under the moniker, ‘sprout sack’, guess why?
Gah! They don't call The Act "bumping uglies" for no reason.
ReplyDelete"...the moniker, ‘sprout sack’, guess why?.."
ReplyDeleteThey were green??
Not unusual for Tipton...
That's right Ted. I used to dip them into the Dudley-Birmingham canal. The rats had a field day.
DeleteAnd I would imagine your local pharmacy made a mint from your subsequent penicillin prescriptions. I've seen the local canals in Dudley: you could walk across most of 'em. I believe they were the inspiration for Terry Pratchett's River Ankh.
DeleteI always got my antibiotics from ward 19, Birmingham, General Hospital. I was a number, not a name.
ReplyDelete"...a number, not a name..."
ReplyDeleteAh. So you acquiesced, unlike Patrick McGoohan.
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