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Friday 5th March 2021

NO MORE HOME SCHOOLING. I will never teach my kids another thing.

I got out of the house. Apart from going to hospital nine days ago I probably haven’t been outside of my front or back gate for a couple of weeks (I had to self isolate beforehand). And even though I was just walking up to the GP to collect some cream to cope with some soreness and fungal growth that has resulted from wearing jock straps, it was the most beautiful and life affirming walk of my life.
Seriously. I felt positively high.
Maybe it was the fresh air or maybe just my body feeling thankful that it is alive, but it’s certainly the happiest I’ve been since I realised my bollock was trying to kill me, If something is denied to you for a decent length of time, it is so liberating when you get it back. I expect Nelson Mandela felt something similar to this when they let him out of prison. Probably not as intense as what was happening to me. It was like God was stroking my hair and saying, “Well done mate. I tested you by removing your testes (clue in the name) and you came out believing in me just exactly the same as you did before. Here, have some of my special God legal high drugs.”
“It’s not right for you to test people like that God.”
“Oh come on, it’s just a bit of a laugh.”
“No, you’ve got to rise above stuff like that.”
“Fuck you, you don’t even think I’m real.”
“Is it surprising when you act like a child so often?”
“You can fucking talk.”
“I haven’t set myself up as God though, have I?”
“Nor did I. I just am God. There was nothing I could do about it.”
“But you’re omnipotent, You can stop being God if you want.”
“And lose all the magic powers. Jog on, mate.”
“OK, thanks for the drugs anyway. And the gift of life. Life is a wonderful thing.”
“See, I had to take your bollock to make you learn that lesson.”
“Or you could just have appeared to me and told me and left my bollocks alone.”
“You wouldn’t have learned.”
“Why not just threaten to take my bollock?”
“You wouldn’t have believed that I’d do it. This was the only way to do it.”
"Can you magic my bollock back on now?"
"Of course I can, I can do anything. It would be pimpsy."
"Are you going to?"
“Stop moving in that mysterious way.”
“I like it.”

The doctor on the phone told me I’d be walking like John Wayne for another week, but I haven’t really experienced any discomfort in the part of my body that you might expect me to. The incision in my abdomen has been sore and slowed me down a bit, but I am walking fine. And it was good to get out for a proper stroll, but I don’t think you’d have pegged me for a uniball just by looking at me. If anything it’s a bit easier to walk without my ball getting in the way. The one that’s left was always the smaller one and is keeping himself to himself, probably out of fear what might happen to him if he steps out of line.
Maybe Action Man was such an action man because he had made the ultimate sacrifice in order to ensure smooth walking and running motion. I don't mind losing the balls, but the cock would be a cut too deep for me. It's wrong to have favourites, but that's definitely my preferred piece of genitalia. I hope that it can live on after I die. It's the only organ that I think might be in good enough working order to be donated. And I envy the lucky bugger who'll end up with it.
I am glad that I have managed to get through all this through taking the piss. Getting all serious and sad after a life time of taking the piss would be like being that idiot in the audience of an offensive comedian who laughs uproariously at all the jokes, until one comes along that is about something close to them and then gets all stroppy. They are the worst people in the world.
Laughter is the only sensible reaction to this stupid and nonsensical life along with the occasional awe-like wonder at how unlikely it is we should be here at all and how amazing it all is. If I can feel that profundity when hobbling down the road for my crotch rot medicine, then there's no excuse for you. Thanks God. You're playing a blinder.

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