Now then chaps a challenging wank bank picture for you this morning. C.A.
Piles. Chalfonts. Farmers. Plymouths. Nurembergs. are cunts.
Around five years ago, I had a nasty bout of gastroenteritis in Eastern Europe. I ended up blowing my back doors out and giving myself a robust case of piles.
It turns out they didn’t drop off, so I’ve ended up with a ringpiece that resembles the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Anyway, I’ve finally surrendered to years of constant itchy arse, suppositories and weapons-grade Roid Raider cream. Next month, The good ol’ NHS will be cutting the spiteful little cunts off.
However, I’m fucking terrified. I have an embarrassingly low pain threshold, and a pal of mine who had his farmers lopped off said it was like sitting on a hornet’s next for about a month after.
The only benefit I can see here is a liquid diet after the op for a fortnight as I am a bit fat. The GP didn’t find it funny when I suggested a “Farmhouse Cider Cleanse” to really flush my system.
Have any of you fellow cunters suffered with the dreaded Arse Grapes of Wrath or even had them off?
Let me know.
Nominated by Cuntis_cuntis.




