The hospital is wrapped in fog, and Paul is wandering the wards at night in this story from Owen Booth
Paul has lost count of the number of times he’s had a doctor’s fingers up his arse, but it’s well into double digits by now.
What are you going to do, not laugh?
He’s lost count of the number of procedures he’s had, too. The number of machines he’s been inside, or had inside him. Last week they stuck a camera down his cock and into his bladder – and possibly an entire film crew along with it, judging by how it felt afterward.
“It was an Oscar-winning performance,” they told him when they’d finished. As if they didn’t say that to everybody.
“I heard those Chinese lads are already selling pirate copies in the supermarket car park,” Paul replied, which made the consultant chuckle.
He’s still got it.