Jism News update
Good God, am I still giving sperm samples?
Yes. Yes I am.
Eighteen months after the snip, lost and spoilt samples, and the sheer inconvenience of trying to hoik a sperm sample into a very small pot in a hospital 100 miles away, have meant that we haven't quite got round to finishing the job in hand. As it were.
So, up I went to the second floor of the Dorchester County Hospital last Friday on my way to a red hot lunch date with the fragrant Mrs Duck, with my freshly-squeezed jizz sample (I know what you're thinking - the usual joyless process aided and abetted with the use of industrial-grade sandpaper) nice and warm down the front of my trousers and strode purposefully into the Path Lab reception area.
"Sample for you" I said, banging it down on the desk in the traditional manner, and turned to leave.
"Hang on a minute, sir," said the fetching young lady in a lab coat, "We've changed our procedures."
"We're wasting far too much time on lost and badly labelled samples. We've got to check and sign it in."
"So. What kind of sample is it?"
"DENISE! SPERM SAMPLE TO CHECK! DENISE?"
"She's on her break," said a colleague, "You'll have to tannoy her."
*Click* *Ping Pong!* "DENISE TO CHECK A SPERM SAMPLE. DENISE TO CHECK A SPERM SAMPLE."
Five minutes later, she finally arrives, still clutching a cup of tea.
"Yours, is it?"
"Ummm... could be."
"There's not very much, is there?"
And: "Gather round everybody - this is how we're checking in sperm samples from now on..."
"Can I go now?"
"No. Not yet. How old is this sample?"
"Um... no more than thirty minutes. And I know what you're thinking. Nigella Lawson."
"You disgust me."