Skewster

Well lads and lassies, as of this Friday, my baby-making equipment will be put absolutely and verifiably beyond use.

Sinn Fein are calling my act of decommissioning an historic event in Irish history, while the DUP are typically cynical of the move and want to watch every last ounce (ewww) be deposited in a concrete bunker. Pervs.

Anyway, I got a call to tell me that there’s been a cancellation, asking if I wanted to come in for the vasectomy on Friday. “Absolutely” said I, with glee.

People I speak to about the vasectomy usually wince and act like it’s something to be afraid of, but personally I’m looking forward to it! Until now, the equation went:

Unprotected Sex = Good times + Chance of babies

In a few short months, unprotected sex will only mean “Good Times”. Well, hopefully…

The only bizarre concern that I have is if it’ll alter me in any way. I’d hate to get the operation and find that my libido takes a nose-dive! Other than that, bring it on. A weekend of pain for a lifetime of shagging without Johnny Rubbers!