'FLASHY'S ARSE IN 2 PARTS - SEE THE WHOLE NEXT WEEK'
Hospitals are horrible places. Full of the ill and the dying. Why anyone would want to wind up there is beyond me. When I go, it won't be lying on my back moaning. I'll go as I came into the world - kicking and screaming. And, if I have my way, it won't be for a good, long while yet.
Ever had a camera up your jacksy? I have - and fun it ain't. Worst case scenario? The sawbones in charge was clearly a homosexual. Looked like one half of Right Said Fred. He couldn't wait to get his finger up my bum. If there hadn't been a couple of female nurses in the room to see that nothing untoward went on, I believe I would have killed the man. Had to keep a stiff upper lip for the ladies, though. I only cried twice.
"This is the camera, sir," says the doc, his bald pate shining away in the light, half blinding me. "We'll be inserting it about 60cm through your...."
"60cm?" I interrupted. "But Jean Luc Picard off QueenOnLine sent me a link to a website that said it would only be 20-25cm!"
"Mr. Flashman," he tutted. "Your friend is a liar."
I was just about to tell him where to stick his camera when he beat me to it. Good Lord! You gaylords out there deserve my pity. There must be a better way to get your kicks than having foreign objects rammed up your jacksy. I thought I was a deviant, but you lot take the chocolate biscuit, you really do. Where's the pleasure in that? I thought my eyes were going to pop out.
"Your bowel is pink and healthy, " informed the quack.
"Fucammmmff!" I wailed.
"Just a little further, Mr Flashman."
"Everything seems perfectly normal."
"I've got a camera up my arse! This is not normal! Nurse! Nurse! Make the nasty man take it out! I've got friends in high places, d'ye hear?"
"We're nearly there, Sir," said one nurse soothingly.
"Nearly there?" whines I. "It'll be coming out of my mouth soon. Oh God! Why won't anyone listen? This ain't right! I shall write to my MP about this. I'll have you all struck off! A pox on you! Murderers! Aaaarggh, but you're killing me! I'm dying, don't you see?"
"We've finished, Mr. Flashman " says Dr. Slaphead.
"You have? Oh! Ah! Well, there was nothing to it! Barely felt a thing. I don't know what all the fuss was about!"
I was led back to the waiting room, where I Robert Mitchum-ed over to the nearest chair. I barely had the strength to lift my hand and extend a middle finger to the doc's turned back, but I somehow managed it.
Everything tested fine. I'm as perfect on the inside as I am on the out. A biopsy was taken, which I won't find out the results of for a week or two - but they basically did that just for the sake of it.
So - am I relieved?
I've just worried myself half to death for a month or more about having to go to hospital to have some damned ponce stick his hand and a camera up my exit wound, and what for? Fuck all! Of course I'm not relieved.
I have been anally invaded for nothing! Well, I'm sorry for all you randy young bucks out there hoping that this experience might somehow change my persuasion. This Flashy is not for turning! The next fellow that even ventures close to touching my rear end will wish he hadn't! It ain't natural, and it ain't clever.
And it certainly ain't for Flashman.
*Minces off into distance*
FLASHMAN STRIKES AGAIN!
Paul Rodgers is not the best thing since fried Fred.