| Fear Of Wart
Stephen Potato peered through his double-glazed windows into his reasonably well-kept back garden. Light rain spotted the window pane like the saliva of an awkward, ugly teenager who’s yet to learn how to control the contents of his mouth. It was a dull day, thought Stephen, the skies were heavy and grey and this didn’t bode well for the trip to the McGonagle’s Garden Centre he’d planned for tomorrow. He wasn’t too concerned though, he was never too concerned about anything. What was the worst that could happen? He wouldn’t be able to buy the ornamental terracotta chinaman he’d had his eye on until mid-week? No, there was nothing to panic about here, so he continued to stare, unfazed by the postponement of the purchase of the slightly racist nick-nack, into his bedrizzled yard.
This semi-hypnosis that had been brought on by all this staring coupled with the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain was broken when Stephen had the sudden urge to adjust the orientation of his penis. It is the wont of many a man when engaged in aimless thought or long, boring telephone conversations that the penis must be manipulated in some manner of means. Often the scrotum too. And it simply not sufficient to peform this adjustment through the two barriers presented by the trousers and the underpants (Stephen was a fan of briefs, he found them comforting), there must be direct contact between the hand and the genitals. This requires the hand to be thrust into the underpants and it was in doing this that Stephen felt a slight catch. Something unusual on the side of his hand which had rubbed up aginst the waistband of his briefs. He quickly pulled out his hand and examined it. There, to his almost total indifference, was a wart. A wart. One of the most banal maladies known to mankind.
“I’ll have to get that seen to”, he muttered to himself. Then, almost immediately, the barely detectable concern provoked by the wart was superceded by the thought that Time Team with Tony Baldrick would be on in five minutes. Stephen pulled himself away from the window and set about making a cup of tea which he could enjoy while immersed in this weeks archaeological adventure.
__________________ Willies. | 
