Eight years ago my sister and her then boyfriend offered me the spare room in their holiday apartment. I tagged along with them and a group of friends, how hard could mountain biking be after all? We can blame quite a lot on that holiday.
My sister got engaged on a mountain side. Things took a different turn for Mr DD. On his first night he was innocently whistling in an unlocked restaurant toilet cubicle when a woman burst in, clearly and shamelessly trying to steal a glance at his schlong* (#metoo). I was that toilet pervert.
He managed a day of serious mountain biking before he was the unfortunate victim of an accident that resulted in a dislocated and broken thumb**. Meanwhile I had realised mountain biking was actually quite tricky and decided to retire from the sport before I lost a limb.
So Mr DD through injury, and me through general lack of ability, were unable to bike for the rest of the holiday. Instead we drank together, swam in a lake and he even saved my life***.
On returning to good old Britain our relationship blossomed. In time I managed to smuggle myself out of Norfolk, we got married and had two children.
Then, well, then came the inevitable.
A few months later the good news was delivered, Mr DD has super sperm. At this point he was given an actual doctors note to have as much sex as possible. Birth a person and you may be offered toast. Mess up a vasectomy and you’ll get given a sex pass. Un-fucking-believable.
Around came sample day again but this time a room was reserved at the hospital to ensure it’s potency. Mr DD enters the room, notices some reading material and locks the door. The reading material was a bit niche. Counselling information doesn’t do it for him, but who is he to judge others #dontkinkshame. He also wasn’t sure why there was a glass window looking in to another small room.
You see, it might seem like you’re just going on holiday, but really it could be the first step in a slippery slope to wanking in a hospital morgue viewing room.
*There’s a few points to pick up on here;
- We were in France, the toilets were unisex
- The toilets were pretty much in the kitchen so no whistling could be heard by anyone outside the cubicle.
- There were only two toilets
- I had already been to the other toilet which, ironically, had a broken lock.
- Who doesn’t lock the toilet door
- While in a restaurant?
- A unisex restaurant toilet?
- No-one wants to watch you wee.
**He was distracted and rode in to a drainage ditch.
***He grabbed my boob to stop me walking out in front of a car, which was approximately half a mile away at the time. Hero.
On a side note I asked my family for ‘funny words for penis’. They delivered but I only needed one which seems like a waste;
- John Thomas
- Womb raider
- Pork sword
- Love dart
- Bald headed sailor
- Puff the one eyed dragon
- Just-in Beaver
- Weapon of ass destruction