You think, uh, maybe I could get my dick back?

Around these parts when you go to see your GP on a busy day, you get whoever has the free time now that there are a lot of Portugese financial migrants knocking about. I'm not complaining about this because they usually have a squad of kids in tow and it makes sense to come here and use our health service with a reasonable track record where negligent homocide is concerned, and Portugal is a shithole - by getting those members of its population smart enough to leave we 're improving our stock while also hopefully hastening the micro-apocalypse that will swallow that backwater so we can send the troops in to mop up and then open a Disneyland.
Anyway, I'm rambling in what is essentially a very short story: when I went to see a doctor about The Toilet Blood Problem, instead of my regular GP I got Doctor Brown. Haha - do you see? I had to get someone to stick their finger up my arse and his name was Doctor Brown.


Aye, essentially what this story tells you is that I am still 8 years old.