An old friend of Team Sterne got married on the weekend. But while we're happy for her and all, that's not particularly important. No - the whole event was put into perspective when, during a few post-ceremony drinks, an hilarious and terrifying discovery was made. An old aquaintance - who for the sake of propriety we shall refer to only as "M" - this old aquaintance...he had grown a second arsehole.
It's a strange but true fact that when you get a group of old school friends together, many of whom have not seen each other in years, it doesn't take long for age and experience to slough away, revealing that one's heady salad days are not so long past. By which I mean that we all behaved like a bunch of 16-year-old tits.
The devolution happened surprisingly fast (the slippery slope to immaturity having been lubricated by generous quantities of alcohol), but I think it was the fact that we were all a bit worried about how to pronounce the groom's surname - the potential mispronunciation would have had everyone pissing themselves, but would have been a tad disrespectful - that pushed us over the edge. That and the guilty, giddy pleasures of schadenfreude: I can't believe how fat they got! when did he lose all his hair? These twin catalysts soon had the conversation scraping the bottom of the good-taste barrel. Examples? I learned how to perform a Dirty Fishook (think Dirty Sanchez. Now think dirtier). I learned what not to wear when walking in a park in Amsterdam.
And that was when it came out: "You remember M? He had two arseholes!" Laugh? I nearly snorted my beer (a shocking waste). No, really, I swear it's true. It's a very real, quite painful, and hideously unseemly condition. And whilst I do not wish to make light of another's discomfort (too much), M - who was not present for the event, and has since been cured of his bifurcated butt - was SMS'd to confirm that the tale was a true one, and was a very good sport about the whole thing: in fact he went so far as to offer to SMS some pictures back. To my lasting gratitude, no-one took him up on his kind proposal.
I'll spare you the worst of the medical details...I'm trying to repress them as it is. Suffice it to say that it involves some sort of ingrown hair, which gets infected and degenerates into, yes, a second anus beneath the first. No, it doesn't function like the original, as one curious charlie in our party queried. At least, it excretes nothing but pus.
Inconsequential affairs, stuff like the exchange of matrimonal vows, the promise to share one's life with another - this all pales to insignificance beside the threat of replicated rectums. I mean, it could happen to anyone! Even you!
Nevertheless, let me take this opportunity to say congratulations, Mr and Mrs Semenchuk. May yours be a long and happy future. May you never live under the shadow of two arseholes.