
They don’t tell you at school about the shit you suddenly find yourself putting up with once you hit middle age.
Plenty of stuff for wimminz and kids about what comes next for them. Pubes, the change and all that shite.
For us blokes? We can fuck off.
Well, I’m ok really as I don’t want a fuss being made, but here are some of the delights I’ve found in the last couple of years.
1. Raised blood pressure. Out of fucking nowhere that one. No reason for it really, just ‘middle age’.
2. Piles. I recall waking one morning to feel like a broken bottle had been heated up to 450 degrees and shoved up my ringpiece. What a fucking joy that was.
3. Itchy arsehole. Nobody warned me that I would need at least one visit a day to the bog to wipe my arse. Nothing happened. I don’t need a shit. I’m not a fat cunt. I didn’t follow through. I just really need to wipe my arse for no fucking reason it seems.
4. Pissing like a racehorse. Two cans of lager and I’m pissing like Red Rum on his stag (nag?) do. Mind you, I get pissed quicker so that saves me money.
5. Exercise. Running a mile now feels like I’m carrying Harvey Price on my back at 14,000 feet above sea level for 60 miles.
6. Sounding like my grandad. I now like watching things ‘about the olden days’. Can’t stand modern music and say things like ‘In my day…’
7. Groaning. It’s true what Billy Connolly said about bending over and going ‘Eaaarrgggh’ for no reason when you hit middle age. I do it all the fucking time.
8. Slipping standards. I’ve always had high standards when it comes to ladies. I’m married and she’s a good un. Still, I like to look. Nowadays, I can find Anne Widdecombe appealing on a dark winter’s afternoon when the Mrs is at the hairdressers. I can definitely feel a trouser tingle when she ends her EU Parliament rant with “We’re off!”
But fuck them all. I’m older and wiser and I can now have that smug, all knowing grin my grandad had when I would talk shite as a youngster.
Fuck off.
Nominated by: Cuntybollocks



