For Your Reluctant Enlightenment

Gasp! Two posts in two days – what has precipitated such a rare occurrence in these dark days of sausage-centric drudgery? I’d tell you, but…I don’t wanna. Some things sound too insufferably whiney even to me, so instead I present for your amusement/horror/disgust five things you probably never wanted to know about me.

1) When I was about two years old, I stuck a tic-tac so far up my nostril it never came out again. I’m assuming it managed to slide its way down my throat, because as far as I’m aware I don’t have any tic-tac sized growths obstructing my nasal passage. I remember being surprised because the other tic-tacs I’d already eaten had made the return journey into my nose without any problem.

2) I caught glandular fever off the first boy I kissed. I think I got off lightly; he tried to give me a whole lot more. Fortunately for me, I found that short-arse, bandanna-wearing boy's clumsy attempts to give me an early introduction to meat products all-too-easy to refuse.

3) When I was a little girl, I woke in the middle of the night to an unwontedly urgent call of nature. Leaping out of bed, I whipped off my pyjama bottoms and underpants to facilitate a quicker connection of rear end and toilet. As I raced to the loo, I stepped on something that didn’t belong on my floor, something that must have slipped out of my undies after its premature arrival during my sleep. It was a pellet of pooh. That was a long time ago, and two babies have presented me with a lot worse since, but oh! I can’t help cringing at the memory.

4) I once got so drunk I spent the entire next day in bed, puking up the meagre contents of my stomach. The revolting sight of green, phlegmy stomach-lining globbing into my enamelled wash basin was nevertheless accompanied by weak relief that at last, there was nothing left to bring up. Accepting shot after shot after shot from creepy older men in China didn’t seem like such a bad idea the night before - I sometimes marvel I survived my salad days relatively unscathed.

5) I once flashed my boobs in a busy street. I’d rushed out of the house that morning stupidly forgetting my bra in my haste, and had been wearing a jumper to preserve some modicum of decency. In the afternoon warmth I absentmindedly removed my jumper, my top rose up with it and [cue Benny Hill music] instant nudie show! Of course, my boobs have made public appearances many times since then in their capacity as milk-dispensers, so I'm no longer mortified by the experience. And every goggling teenage boy needs a break now and then.