That serious one

I meant to post this a little while back, but got rather busy. Never let it be said that I’m not “open” on this blog…

You’ve had a giggle the last couple of days with some of the pre-written material. Well, today we get one of those serious posts. This one’s pretty “open”, but I think it’s worth it. Please read this, take it on board and pass on to your friends.

First, the good news. I am seeing someone new. For the first time in quite some months (over a year?) I’m an attached man. I’m not going to harp on any more as I don’t want to get all mushy. I’ll tell you more about her as and when. As a result of deciding to settle on one person (I’ve been fairly… frivolous over the last year or so), I decided to play things very safe. I don’t want to drag in any unwanted problems from my previous lifestyle into a relationship.

So, I went to the local GUM clinic. Many of you might refer to these as the Clap Clinic, Genito-Urinary Medicine unit (if you’re posh) and various other names. It’s not the first time I’ve been to one of these places – in fact, it’s the third. But when we’re talking about my willy and attached bits, it makes sense to have a “service” once in a while, especially if you play with more than one partner.

Without exception, anything these places find stays within the clinic. Your doctor doesn’t know. Your employer doesn’t know. You don’t have to declare anything to insurance companies. It’s more confidential than George Bush’s real IQ. Nobody will ever find out.

The staff, certainly those at the one in Bradford I visited, are superb. Polite, friendly, humorous, understanding, discreet… they know it’s hard for people to drag themselves there so they put you at ease. I’d rate it as one of the nicest medical facilities I’ve ever visited. Their questioning is thorough – be honest in your answers as it can help them to make sure they check for any relevant problems.

On my recent visit, a (fairly cute) student nurse was present. I was asked if I minded her being there and, surprising myself, I didn’t. Hey, she’s got to learn about the job somewhere and it’s not like a lass her age won’t have seen a nob or two in her time. Given the fact that she got to see me with my trousers round my ankles while I doctor prodded my bollocks, she didn’t giggle once, and was very pleasant and polite. Full marks from this member of the public!

Now, I’ll have to be honest – the visit isn’t 100% chattery loveliness. Depending on what you’re being checked for, there are a couple of tests that can be… uncomfortable. I went for the whole shebang, just because I could. The advantage of the NHS in this country is that all this is free – make the most of it.

Obviously, I can’t tell you the details of the female tests (some vague details follow), but if you go the whole hog as a bloke expect the following:

  • A thorough questioning about what you’ve been up to, who with and where
  • Some nice doctor having a good peer at your willy and the surrounding area followed by a fairly firm grope
  • Needle in the arm for a small blood sample to be taken
  • Another nice gentleman asking if you have any problems such as a burning sensation while peeing, who then shoves a cotton bud up your japs eye (******* uncomfortable) and asks you to piss in two plastic cups. If you didn’t have a burning sensation before, you do now
  • A closing interview based on immediate findings and some advice

Having asked around, the female equivalent is roughly:

  • Questioning
  • A procedure similar to a smear, including stirrups and stuff but several samples are taken
  • Blood test
  • Final interview

So you see, the two are fairly similar. They check for pretty much everything from the obvious nasties (gonorrhea, AIDS, syphilis, hepatitis) to ones that people maybe don’t think or know of (such as chlamydia, a link I recommend you check out). Chlamydia’s massively common, not easy to spot if you have it and stupidly easy to treat if caught early. However, if you don’t catch it early, it can lead to infertility in both sexes.

It’s free (in the UK at least), it takes about 30 minutes and it can save you from a lot of future discomfort as well as that of those you’re intimate with. ****, it could save your life.

Sorry for the public service announcement, folks, but don’t let a bit of embarassment potentially **** up your life. Get an expert to give your gonads the once-over!

And no, I’m not telling you my results you nosey ***** (just added that last bit there so you’d ******* know you were still on the right twatting web page)

News comments

Just a short post today, folks. I’m off away for the weekend… erm… 18 minutes ago. Eek!

Brazil team to probe Tube death

Excuse me, but isn’t getting Ronaldo, Ronaldinho and company involved just a little inappropriate?

RIP to a rarity

It’s not often I’ll bemoan the passing of a politician, but in the case of Mo Mowlam I’m prepared to make an exception. One of the few politicians I’ve ever felt I could trust; open, honest, forthright and bloody funny. The only upside to her passing is I reckon I can now pick up her autobiography without worrying there’ll be an updated edition with anything new in it.

Stuff & things

OK, catchup post y’all.

Chav **** is no better. After several days of peaceful bliss, I was woken at 6:50 on Tuesday morning by the ****** putting his stereo on. Then his g/f yelling at him to turn it off. Then him singing instead. Then the stereo again.

I rang the letting agents and spoke to someone different – I think it’s the boss. And he said “contact the council”. I pointed out that I’d already done that and the last letter his company had sent allegedly told him he was on thin ice and would be out if I complained again. “Contact the council” again. ******.

So I’m contacting the council. I’ll also mention the party last night that ended with ornaments on my mantlepiece jumping in time to the “music”. Then him and his mates jumped in a taxi and ****** off. The last time that happened, they woke me at 12:45am with the stereo. Hence my trip to London late last night. The alternative would have been to get up at 5am and drive down… impossible if I was going to be woken at silly o’clock by that **** and his ******* mates.

So using our company’s travel booking firm, I sorted out a room at the Ibis in Crawley. Now, at my last job I’d just have gone online and booked it myself. But, no. We have to use this third party company. So I called them and the polite lady took my details and those of the hotel.

10 minutes later and I get a call back. “That hotel’s not on our preferred list (or something) so there’ll be a £5 surcharge. Is that OK?”

Well, fine. I’m not paying. I also passed on my credit card details as, again due to them not being a “partner” hotel, they needed a card to confirm the booking. An email came through moments later with all the details on. Smart. Though pointless as I could have had the same room booked 20 minutes earlier, also on my credit card and without the fiver admin charge.

Broom down the M1, M25 and M23 (I think I got caught by a cunting camera as well) and arrive at the hotel at about 1:00am. To find that my room booking was cancelled as they didn’t receive a credit card number to guarantee it.

Thank **** they still had rooms left. I’ll scream at the stupid bitch who was supposed to sort it tomorrow. And follow the advice of the lass from our company who I talked to on site who never uses them. She just books the hotels direct online. Against company policy, but a hell of a lot easier and cheaper.

Site was a farce. Basically, we had a Live Day yesterday. This usually involves the simple matter of a trainer attending site, making sure everything works and showing people how to use the system. Dead easy.

Only these arseholes decided that yesterday was also going to be the day they moved offices. Cue problems being called in such as “I’m printing out and it’s coming out upstairs”. That was because the user had been moved downstairs and their ******* printer was still on the first floor. Hardly our bastard fault.

I’d finally got all six printers up and going when some smarmy ***** passes me on the stairs and asks if I could possibly rename them all because they’ve all moved. Now, I spoke to this fucknut about 3 weeks ago, going over the post-audit checklist and one of the questions asked was “what do you want to name the printers?”. So I just listened while he droned on and gave me a list off the top of his head, mentally said “**** off and die”, audibly said “it’s a bit complex – we’ll do it remotely” and left.

I won’t even start on the Windows 95/98 machines that we warned them about a month ago that they still tried to get us to install on. At least theit head office share out opinion. Someone there told us they’re the worst bloody site to work with. They’re not wrong.

In fairness, there was on guy there who was spot on. Problem? OK – solutions? OK – go with that one. Dead easy. And he showed me funny videos of penguins dancing and a polar bear pretending to be a snow plough. So that was nice.

Got home about half five (courtesy of some seriously **** traffic – and if I ever see that cuntbag in the Rav4 that was driving inches off my back end again, I’ll feed him his own scrotum), and started on the out of hours patch I had to do. Finished at 7:30. A total of 3 hours’ overtime, most of which was spent getting my dinner sorted while someone in the office tested that it had worked OK.

So there you go. Last couple of days. Oh, handed a coursework in and got it back again – I like that tutor. No ******* about. Only three more to go… and I can skip one of them. It won’t affect my mark in the slightest. All I need is the damn time to do them…

Where did Monday go?

Whoops. Missed a post. Sorry about that. I had a coursework deadline today. After spending far too long on the assignment I realised I could actually just skip it and not bother and still pass. Arse buckets.

You childish ********

I post about politics, TV, charities, daft things at work… and I get maybe 10 responses from you lot if I’m lucky. I shove up a post that predominantly consists of the word “****” in a huge font and you little ******* are all over it like a bunch of schoolkids who’ve just discovered Viz.

******* pathetic. I don’t know why I bother. *tut*

I am vain

You know, it surprised me the other night when a friend came over, who I hadn’t seen for about a month or so, and she said “have you lost weight?”. What surprised me was that I felt good about it.

More confirmation that I’m getting old. Wonderful.