Men Behaving Badly.


Tony: Alright mate! Up for some laddish japery and poor quality jokes about Kylie Minogue and BIRDS?

Gary: No. No Tony. We are old. Our penises are gathering moss, our genitals…our testicles withering on the sad string of our scrotum, like mouldy, rancid oranges on a long dead tree. Our sperm would fail to win a race against a melted iceberg.

Virility is a long-forgotten epitath on a broken gravestone. The skeletal, beckoning hand of sexual oblivion grasps and claws at our respective gonads and you, you remind me of myself; ageing, flaccid….old.

Tony: Great, I’ll get some cans.

Gary: No. I’ve noticed you’ve paid no rent for 15 years. I’ve put all your stuff in bin bags on the front lawn. Several soiled pairs of jeans. A well thumbed copy of a porn magazine, the spunk long since dried, the pages stuck together, bereft, dog-eared and sad. It’s raining, you may want to remove them. I’ve had enough. Get the fuck out of my house.


About neilstilwell

Abseiling into trouble, a sewer rat staring at the stars. Disgusting. You can assist my search for the one ring by buying a Kindle version of this diary from here. It has some other stuff in it, and a dreadful cover.
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