I was wandering through my blog the other day, brushing off the cobwebs and tenderly restoring some of the more desiccated exhibits when a thought struck me. Struck me smartly across the face with a meaty, sovereign-clad wad of knuckles. My thoughts all wear bargain basement bling.
That thought was this thought: my blog doesn’t have nearly enough willies in it.
Like all great men (Edmund Blackadder*, the fat kid in Superbad,….Ghandi), I spent most of my scholastic career drawing willies on things.
In year 7, the schlongs I drew in my hapless chum (now housemate and lover) Al’s ‘general work book’ contributed in no small part (ha) to him getting suspended from school the following week. This was but one of many similar incidents which, some years later, prompted a particularly cold-blooded teacher to remark that, while I could be “tossed into a pile of manure and come up smelling of lavender,” young Al did not have the same luxury.
Year 8 and a singularly ill-conceived art lesson in which we were set to work on self-portraits. Naturally, as soon as hapless chum #2 Ando left the room to answer a call of nature, I seized my moment and scrawled a “tuberous cock and balls**” smack bang in the middle of his forehead. Well not his forehead….mind you, that’s a thought…. Got detention. Totally worth it.
Fast forward to year 11. I don’t know what the recommended way to spend the hour before an GCSE exam is but on this occasion, I spent it in McDonalds drawing willies on every page of hapless chum #3 Tim’s revision guide. To my mind, if you actually invest money in a Food Technology revision guide, you deserve to have it frescoed with phallus. I think the cosmos may disagree though because – resulting from what I can only assume was some sort of karmic cock-slapping – I got an E in that exam. Mercifully, I’d already done a really awesome piece of coursework about Battenberg cake which pulled the grade up.
At university, hapless chum #4 Spandex left his philosophy notes in my room. Said notes were returned with a beautiful watercolour rendering of me – not to put too fine a point on it – buggering him. Lots of willies there (well, one each).
And as recently as 2 weeks ago, a charming, button-nosed young lady named Hannah sent me a holiday snap which featured my name lovingly embossed in the Balinese sand. You can probably hazard a guess as to what was (equally lovingly) featured in my reply.
Anyway, not to put too bell-shaped a point on it, mine is a rich heritage of willy etchings and it is one which I now realise it has been remiss of me not to have shared with you earlier.
Today, the willy in question belongs to Adam Buxton who is a very funny bloke. Check out his series of Country Man vignettes as soon as you possibly can.
*“…if only I’d paid attention in nursery art class instead of spending my entire time manufacturing papier-mâché willies to frighten Sarah Wallace.”
**hats off to Philip Larkin for that sparkling turn of phrase.