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Saturday, 2 June 2012

image for Embarrassing Ailments...The UXB Mr Down Hadn't passed solids since 1944

Our first story this month is very unusual indeed. Great Granddad Benjamin Down came to us with his embarrassing ailment. Ben tells his story.

"I was in the garden, 1944 it was. Digging for England it was called; we all did our bit in those days. Anyway, it was wash day and my Ida had put my smalls in to soak so, naturally I was as naked as Mrs Sharpe from Number 13 when the GI's were in town.

Anyway, I had just bent over to tend my cabbages when a dirty Luftwaffe took me by surprise. Dropped a bomb right up my jacksy he did. Bloody nazis. The bugger was a good shot though, I'll give him that. Lucky I was there really, someone could have got hurt."

After examining Bens swollen anal passage, I asked him why he hadn't had it removed at the time. He said:

"Well, my Ida did try. Wedged in real tight it was. There was no shifting the bugger. I suggested using Mrs Ds' roasting spatula but she was having none of it."

"I couldn't just trot off down the hospital with it, could I? There was a war on you know. It wouldn't have been right. People sitting around with bits and pieces blown off and in I waltz with a bomb up my arse.

The walking wounded just had to button up and get on with it. That's what I was, walking wounded, albeit a bit carefully."

I then asked Mr Down how he had managed to pass solids with two tons of German engineering blocking the way. He explained:

"Haven't had a shit since. 20th May 1944 it was. Been holding it in ever since. Mind you, it's starting to give me a bit of jip now though".

After asking Mr Down to lie on the couch I decided to dig a little deeper. Wasn't he nervous carrying round a UXB ever since. He told me:

"Nervous, I would have been shitting myself if I could. Especially at the beginning. What with all them bombs going off left, right and centre. If one had exploded too close, it might have started a chain reaction. Torn me a new one, as they say."

Having decided this was too big a job for me, I suggested to Mr Down that we might consider calling in the bomb squad. He looked horrified at my suggestion and decided to leave it where it was for the time being. He pulled up his trousers and very gingerly headed for the door. The last I heard of Mr Down was a muffled bang coming from the direction of the car park.

And so end this case of embarrassing ailments. Coming up later. Genital Warts and when is it safe to start picking them.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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