So, you will no doubt have gathered that the month of May,
in all its simultaneous gloriousness and horribleness (glorious because I’m
going to New York at the end of the month; horrible because of the exams which
I have now finished. I pity my fellow Homo-Journalists for all studying
Biology.) is officially masturbation month. And we, being the sexually
frustrated people that we are, have discovered this, and have chosen to exploit
this, and you’re all going to come out of the end of this week never being able
to think of [insert innuendo here] in the same way again. Ever.
“What is the purpose of this insane month?” I hear you all
cry. Well, in all honesty, I’m not sure I can answer your plead, so let’s all
just assume that the organisers of this month (if there are people sad enough
to organise masturbation month) are all trying to tell us to go and have sex
with ourselves, because if we do it all the time and never stop, we might not
develop prostate cancer (that’s a valid argument, if you don’t believe me, read
this article). But our daily lives and routines are all too full of
revision and shopping and vodka and jelly babies (and also chocolate cake) to
be able to successfully incorporate a daily masturbation session into our
routine. Unless we all switch off the BBC News at 10 and do it then – who wants
to listen to Ed Miliband insulting and shouting at Dick (sorry – Dave and Nick)
about the recession, or some other sleazy scandal which will no doubt come to
light in the time between me writing this in the early hours of Monday morning,
and it going live at 10a.m. on Friday.
Before I descend into a mad rant about the apparent
incompetence of our silly government, or about how everyone on this tiny little
planet leads a much too busy life to be able to fit in a sneaky wank here and
there, I shall leave you with the following advice: never type 'masturbation month' into YouTube in the hope that you'll find a quirky video to finish this post off with; it will burn your eyes.
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