Did you happen to catch The Wright Stuff medical phone-in last Tuesday morning? If not, you missed the most revolting 15 minutes of television I’ve witnessed in a long time.
First to phone in was a man whose penis had gone all bent out of shape thanks to his bad diet (for examples of a bad diet see Piqued). This wasn’t all that bad, considering what came next.
Because next up was a man who, when he sat at his computer and farted, had an oil he described as being ‘like that liquid on the top of a curry’ leak out of his arse and contaminate his chair. He didn’t describe whether he was cursed with this mysterious arse-oil when he farted on other seats, so I was led to believe it only happened when he farted at his computer. The doctor suggested it might be pancreatic cancer – an illness I had no idea made you fart oil whilst looking at the internet.
Next was a man who’d picked up arse-worms whilst trekking around India. The doctor suggested he look at his arse in the mirror but, arse-worms being the shy little devils they are, he’d have to catch them off guard. The plan was to lull them into a false sense of security by turning off the lights, then catch them in the act of wriggling out of the guy’s anus by shining a torch at them as he crouched in the dark straddling a mirror looking at his own arsehole.
Finally there was the guy who, when attempting a fart, ended up belching instead. Of course, this being the most disgusting phone-in show ever devised by man, the belch stank of farts. He wasn’t best pleased. Who would be? Farting out of their mouth like that? Imagine if you did it at a dinner party? Or in Smith’s?
For years, my grandfather has been thundering at me that television has gone down the pan. For three decades I’ve dismissed his cries and wails as the moans of a hoary old misery guts stuck in a time-warp of Morecambe & Wise Christmas Specials and Dad’s Army. After seeing this … this … whatever it was, I am now in complete agreement with him.