As I rapidly approach that time of the year where candles become a fire hazard, I can’t help but think how much last years present was maybe a little more disappointing than I was hoping for, and don’t hold out a vast quantity of hope for what may be given this year.
Last year my wife said “What would you like for your birthday?”
I replied “Look, we have kids, money is tighter than spandex on an overweight person and we should be saving money for more important things. So I want the gift of exercise. Can I have the gift of being able to lay you down on the bed and do gentlemanly things to you every day for a year?”
“Yup, works for me. And to make sure I hold up my end of the bargain, for every day I am not willing to fulfill your present, I will buy you a bottle of whisky!” she replied eagerly. I couldn’t really work out why she was so excited about having my sweaty body writhing all over her for a few minutes a day for a year, but hey…I wasn’t complaining!
So on my birthday morning, sleepy eyed I wandered downstairs. There in the front room…365 bottles of whisky.
“So. Not at all then?”
“Oh no, one of the bottles is for me to help me prepare for the one night you are going to get!”
Awesome. One more night of wordly lovemaking than the year before! And this time she will be drunk instead of asleep!
But you know, I would rather have the gift of not getting any than the gift of some random woman’s breastmilk is the guise of ice cream. Coz you know…you can get it.
Really.
I mean OK, there are some strange things in this world, but ice cream made from some random woman’s breast juice?
And how does it work? Are there battery breasts? Loads of woman in a big room with hardly and room between them, knitting away like mad while some machine sucks them dry?
Are there free range breast milk ice creams where they left to graze in the fresh fruit aisle of the local supermarket during the day and then juiced every night?
Does the farmer come along and randomly taste it to make sure they are giving out fresh enough juice?
And is it just women who supply? Because if you need a load of tits in one place to be milked….well, we have the houses of parliament. The average MP is a complete tit….so an endless supply!
Nope…it’s sent in from various women around the country who suck it out, package it up and send it off. And they go through “Rigorous health checks”. Like what? “Do you have breasts? Great! You’re in!”. And what if you get the ones who watch the drug dealers and start cutting their breast gumph and adding in other things….like…say….REAL milk. THE HORROR!!!
I cant see how it will work. I can’t say I care….because the only way I intend to get a mouthful of breast milk is when my wife falls asleep feeding my child and I jump on the spare one and get involved.
If you want to read about the weird dude with a fetish for boob juice….it’s at http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-12569011. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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