I had a prostate biopsy as part of an investigation into whether I had cancer.  The symptoms had been suspicious – weak bladder, high blood PSA, blotches on the MRI scan.

When I went into the ‘operating’ room I was introduced to the male doctor and his female nurse.  I had been a little concerned about whether it might hurt a bit but when she asked me to take my kecks off my focus shifted onto whether I would look ‘presentable’ despite being rather anxious.  Fortunately, she invited me to lie on the table on my side in the foetus position, so luckily my Hampton which had receded to the size of an acorn retreated into the folds of my lower belly.

First off, from behind me, the doctor gave me the ‘thumbs up’, as much for his pleasure as mine, I suspect, concluding that I had an impressively large prostate.  This made me feel a lot better.  If my nudger was not impressive to the nurse at least I could boast a manly prostate.  All the time the nurse was chatting to me with light pleasantries.  She was around 40, I’d guess, and was very attractive, so in less distracted circumstances I might have offered her a very visible phallic complement.  As it was, John Thomas stayed an acorn.

The doctor, speaking in that precise, clipped accent of the sub-continent (-I always think that Indians and the Irish speak English most perfectly-) explained that he was inserting a sleeve up my arsehole.  For a second I thought, ‘The thumb’s enough; I don’t fancy the rest of the arm as well’.  But I got the idea when he said this would enable him to introduce the anaesthetic needle down it.  ‘Ah, right’, I thought.

But this prompted a memory in me. I thought, ‘If I can’t impress her with my uphill mutton, maybe she’s got a fetish for history.  So I asked, ‘Did you know this is how they killed one of the kings of England?’  They didn’t, so I told them about Edward II having a red-hot poker shoved up his arse through a metal sleeve.  ‘I should have a picture of him on my surgery wall’ says the Doc.  ‘Another satisfied customer’.

Anyroadup, after the anaesthetic he started taking samples; about a dozen.  The nurse explained that each was a plug, not a scrape or slice, about 1mm thick and 1cm long.  All I felt was little more than a tickle.  She collected each on a swab.  And that was that.

While I was tucking my disgraced todger into my breeches she explained that I might experience blood in my faeces, urine and semen for the next few days.  I did wonder about asking if she’d purge me of the latter, either on the NHS or privately but thought better of it.  Anyway, I thought, perhaps there’s an opening for me in porn films.  There must be a niche fetish market for a man who can come blood.

‘Very enjoyable’ I said to them as I went out the door.