Tuesday, May 16, 2006

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

I’m getting so lazy these days that I can’t even think of a sentence or two to preface the things I send to the newspaper. So I was kind of hoping to be let go by my company when my contract expires at the end of the month to see if that would help expand my mind and allow me to write more. Alas, my boss is so helpful and supportive that on Friday she persuaded the ten layers of hierarchy above her to extend my contract until the end of June. Which now means I need to find other ways to expand my mind. Any suggestions?

This week I bring you sensational news of an international conspiracy so shocking that it’s likely to undermine every belief you’ve ever held and leave you curled up in a corner gibbering and drooling. It’s a secret of such magnitude that for over two thousand years it’s been protected by clandestine societies and has only now been uncovered through painstaking work deciphering historical riddles and infiltrating the inner sanctum of the shady secret-keepers.

It’s at great personal risk to my own continuing good health that I type these words from a highly classified location somewhere in the Highlands. If this column does not appear next week you’ll know I was right and have been compelled by the conspirators to “sleep with the fishes” in nearby Loch Lochy, just off the A82, five miles south of Invergarry.

But the truth must be told. So gentlemen, pour yourself a stiff drink, find a comfortable chair and take a deep breath as I now reveal the frightening reality that is…


No, don’t laugh and shake your head in a condescending manner. That’s just what they want you to do. Since the time of Eve, women have cleverly created the illusion that men have been in charge of the world. But it’s all a lie and the evidence to the contrary is now overwhelming and inescapable.

Two incidents in the past week alone have rocked my faith in all that is right and just in the world. The first was a seemingly innocent conversation with a work colleague which began pleasantly enough with a review of things I’d missed when I was off ill after my holidays. Five minutes later came the question that hinted at a larger conspiracy.

“So Neil,” she began with raised eyebrows. “Have you recovered from the man-flu you had last week?” It wasn’t so much the words she used but the fact that a small, wicked smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth. Instantly I knew there was no answer I could provide that would convince her I’d really been ill and the smirk was so powerful that I started to believe I’d just imagined all the recent sweats and cramps and retching.

Brainwashing on this scale doesn’t happen overnight and is the result of hundreds of years of intricate planning. Women will try to laugh off this accusation and pretend their lives are too busy for such fanciful scheming. If that’s true, why do they always have to go to the bathroom in groups?

If you’re still not convinced about the global female conspiracy ask yourself this. Why do women’s bikes not have a bar that goes from just under the seat to the handlebars? They’ll claim this is because they wear dresses and the bar would get in the way. But after an emergency braking incident on my bike the other night I now know that no man would ever have advocated placing a solid metal shaft in such a vulnerable area. I’ll spare you the gory details but let’s just say my singing voice is now more soprano than tenor.

And while we’re on the subject, whose clever idea was it to position a man’s testicles external to his body? Years of sporting mishaps and holidaying near the North Sea have convinced me this is not the result of intelligent design. Somewhere internal, deep in the butt cheeks perhaps, would make far more sense. Better still, make them detachable and discover a whole new world of accessorising. With colourful protective covers like the iPods have. Or special lunch boxes with room for your sandwiches. You’d need to be careful though if you enjoy the occasional Scotch egg. But I digress.

Surely God and evolution both want the species to survive, so the only logical explanation for the external testicle exposure syndrome would appear to be a fiendish programme of genetic manipulation undertaken by women thousands of years ago.

So gents, you have been warned. Keep your eyes peeled, your ears to the ground and your hands in your pockets. DEEP in your pockets. The truth is out there.


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