Monday, July 19
Dick Hat
Recently, as you've all noticed, I've been avoiding the main reason I set up Less Is More - ie, writing funny nonsense for a dozen odd people. I've instead been using my social life under the pretense that it might actually be funny. Well, now that I've got a free moment, is time to start writing humour again.
The other day, I bought a respectably large box of condoms, as you do when you're as much of a general optimist as I am. We all know what condoms are for, so anyone that wants to ask can go look at the Tellytubbies website, right now.
Obviously, being condoms, the box gave me an instruction leaflet cum advert sheet. We'll return to that later, but really. If you're buying condoms in boxes of 12, you probably have a good reason for it by now. The people who need to be told how to put on a condom (erm... apply to penis, roll down, engage porking?) are the ones running off to Tescos toilets to buy two-packs of the things, because they're too squeamish to go up to the counter with a box and actually talk to a person. While you do have the sad prats behind tills who feel obliged to call for a price check when anyone buys condoms, bear this in mind: if you're buying condoms, you must at least think you're going to get some in the near future. Personally, I'm very tactful when it comes to selling condoms in my shop, but since the only person who's bought some I've encountered was a dodgy looking 50 year-old man, I'm hardly in a position to comment too much.
But to move back to this lovely leaflet, having derived all the humour value I can from diagrams of penises, we turn to the back, with intriguing diagrams of the assored condoms the company makes. Most of them are relativly sane constructions, and some of them are not...
So, this thing's supposed to be a condom, then? Here is a short list of things it could more likely be:
I could talk about the general contrariness of flavoured condoms, but I've lost interest. Join us tomorrow, when I talk about the delights of spermicidal lubricant.
The other day, I bought a respectably large box of condoms, as you do when you're as much of a general optimist as I am. We all know what condoms are for, so anyone that wants to ask can go look at the Tellytubbies website, right now.
Obviously, being condoms, the box gave me an instruction leaflet cum advert sheet. We'll return to that later, but really. If you're buying condoms in boxes of 12, you probably have a good reason for it by now. The people who need to be told how to put on a condom (erm... apply to penis, roll down, engage porking?) are the ones running off to Tescos toilets to buy two-packs of the things, because they're too squeamish to go up to the counter with a box and actually talk to a person. While you do have the sad prats behind tills who feel obliged to call for a price check when anyone buys condoms, bear this in mind: if you're buying condoms, you must at least think you're going to get some in the near future. Personally, I'm very tactful when it comes to selling condoms in my shop, but since the only person who's bought some I've encountered was a dodgy looking 50 year-old man, I'm hardly in a position to comment too much.
But to move back to this lovely leaflet, having derived all the humour value I can from diagrams of penises, we turn to the back, with intriguing diagrams of the assored condoms the company makes. Most of them are relativly sane constructions, and some of them are not...
So, this thing's supposed to be a condom, then? Here is a short list of things it could more likely be:
- A Cannon
- A Comb
- A Rather Lob-sided Axe
- Etc
I could talk about the general contrariness of flavoured condoms, but I've lost interest. Join us tomorrow, when I talk about the delights of spermicidal lubricant.
