This post is rated R for ickiness. Sensitive souls should come back later, when there'll be something a little cleaner...
Ever been in a social situation with a group of friends and one starts telling the rest something they shouldn't? An amusing, but embarassing something?
And part of you is screaming "Stop! Stop! Don't tell me this thing! You'll regret it, because I *am* going to laugh and remind you of this for years to come"
And another part of you that is not so pure of motive is sitting firmly on the good part, and rubbing its hands in glee.
The last time this happened I was with a drunken group of friends, and one began to tell us how he'd made it through University. It transpired that he'd discovered that the local sperm bank would pay £10 per donation. He became a frequent visitor and went into quite graphic detail about the whole, er, process.
We laughed.
The next day, he arrived for work with a stinking hang-over to find, on his desk, a small plastic cup, a pair of latex gloves and a box of tissues. He never lived it down.
And this lunchtime it happened again. A new member of staff, eager to impress during our Friday lunchtime beer, launched into a story of the hijinks he and his fellow students got up to in college. It transpired that his room had a balcony that overlooked the chancellour's office. So on occasion he and a group of friends would stand on this balcony and, er, enjoy themselves in the same manner as the friend above, with the exception that they were targetting the chancellor's window rather than a small plastic cup.
We considered this for a moment.
And then the table erupted into gales and gales of laughter. Aside from the guys who were still eating and now looked faintly sick. It wasn't the window thing; that was just yucky, it was the concept that a group of guys would get together and, well, *do* such a thing in company. On a balcony.
So this chap now has a new nickname. I shan't put it here, since my journal is already blocked for naughty content. I shall leave it to your imagination.
And when First-born is of an age, she is NOT going to The University Of Bath. Although it sounds like the boys are more interested in each other than in girls. So perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea after all...
