In the meantime, I thought I'd cheer myself up writing about something that tickled us pink at work. You need to leave now if you're easily offended. The rest of this post talks about a naughty body part.
I was writing up a particularly tricky assessment the other day when my deep concentration was interrupted by Mr Metrosexual. He has a habit of doing this. 'Have you heard of anal bleaching?' he asked. I thought that he was having me on but it's a procedure that really does exist. Look it up on Wikipedia if you don't believe me. There you'll find the before and after shots that I really couldn't bring myself to put on my own blog.
Apparently some people are extremely upset that the skin around their black passage is dark. Me, I haven't a clue what colour mine is. It could be orange with white spots, a bit like Nemo, for all I know. That probably wouldn't be a good thing but I'm not going to get busy with a mirror for research purposes. I'll take a chance it's fine. My little gang considered whether we could easily supplement our NHS pay with an additional cosmetic services. We'd just need to pop over to the Co-op and the nice little garden shop opposite to equip ourselves with a couple of bottles of Domestos and a bit of hose. After all, how hard could the procedure be for a bunch of nurses and a butter fingered occupational therapist to follow?
On a serious note this revelation has got me thinking a bit more deeply. The inside of some people's heads must be in a dreadful empty state. When there's beauty, suffering, love and loss, the great mysteries of the universe and what will be really good for tea to contemplate, why are some of my fellow humans preoccupied with the hue of their arses? Isn't there so much more to life?