Joking Apart

“And by the way Steve.”
“Have you any ideas for spicing up my love life? I’m afraid my wife and I seem to have forgotten we live at the same address.”
“Er……well I’m not really an expert Sid, but you could try scented candles and a pink light bulb.”
“Oh. That’s worth a go I suppose, but I don’t think virility and girth are really the key problems. Still, thanks for the suggestion, anyway.”
“That’s okay.”
“And another thing, Steve.”
God help me.
“Well….you’re the only person I dare ask….Do you….do you think arseholes deserve rights? Be honest.”
“Oh….you mean conmen, cheats and vagabonds?”
“No. No. Real arseholes.”
“Oh…..perverts, rapists and granny bashers….”
“No. Actual physical arseholes. Anuses.”
“You see Steve, I find it terribly upsetting that oral and vaginal orifices always get such a good press, while the poor lowly rectum is forever mercilessly vilified and pilloried. I feel as though I have a calling in life – a sort of holy quest, to defend the rights of all downtrodden and belaboured back passages.”
“Oh….yes…..absolutely….I couldn’t agree more.”
“I knew I could count on you, Steve” he said, a single tear trickling down his old craggy cheek.

That’s just the way I felt. Angry, defiant, and just a little mad.
But tomorrow was the day of the big inspectors’ meeting, when we would all learn our fates.
Tick, tock.


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