SIR GRANTLEY ADAMS and T.T. Lewis were members of a committee drawing up rules for a Literary and Debating Society. T.T. was using strong language.
“During one session,” says Sir Alexander Hoyos, “he kept illustrating his comments and criticisms with a widely used four-letter word. Until Sir Grantley intervened with the remark that he had examined the rules most carefully and found nothing in them suggestive of sexual intercourse.”
During a recent visit to urologist Dr Jerry Emtage, he waxed eloquent about Lee Kuan Yew’s achievements in Singapore. When compared to our local situation, Sir Grantley himself would’ve had to concede that our political directorates’ mismanagement of agriculture and other areas has been most suggestive of sexual intercourse. And some T.T. Lewis language is fully justified. Not that I am claiming Dr Emtage resorted to such.
By the way, I don’t care how many times Sir Henry Forde went the “length and breadth of Barbados” to canvass views on a new constitution. A town hall meeting is no place to judge support for any measure since the silent majority (minority?) will either keep quiet or stay away.
Case in point: the town hall meeting on Greenland landfill. Opposer Dr Colin Hudson got rinsed out and humiliated. I heard a gentleman telling another he was waiting for Richard Goddard to speak so he could lambaste him on how white people care more about a national park than the poor black people of Arch Hall. Greenland went ahead.
A referendum is the only fair way to judge public opinion. We were promised a referendum on whether we should remain a monarchy. Until that was done, any secret drafting of a republic constitution made a mockery of the Barbadian people’s right to choose. In which case, we may as well replace the trident with a banana tree.
Enough of that. Several readers expressed interest in the prostate intervention. Pastor Wayne Webster prayed for me. A Birkett fellow confided that his wife gives him a little thing at Christmas and Easter; he didn’t want to lose out on that. Patrick Medford welcomed me to the “prostate club”. And Richard Armstrong wished me well.
For those debating whether to get tested, I say, go for it. In case you’re worried about the procedures, here is my experience. (And, sorry, editors, but this calls for strong language.)
There are two basic types of male doggerts: the Collaps(ible) which is my type; the Perma-Hard, brother Tony’s type. The Collaps is like a bicycle inner tube – unimpressive unless inflated. And shrinks dramatically under cold conditions or medical scrutiny. Not that it is any less effective in its major role. As brother Ted, another Collaps, used to say: “Let me give it two shakes and I’ll stand next to any man!”
The Perma-H, on the other hand, is made of gristle. It stays majestic at all times. This makes for impressive exposure and sensuous dancing. Requires care, however, around power tools. And it does tend to hang into the toilet water.
All you who will complain that this article “crossed the line” have no idea what the above means to a man. To expose youself to complete strangers, a foreign doctor, female nurses while at your lowest ebb is the ultimate humiliation. Check “Seinfeld – shrinkage”:https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=8DoARSlv-HU.
The process I went through is called “brachytherapy”; they inject radioactive beads into your prostate. You check into Bayview where the nursing staff are extra nice and by evening you’re back home and kicking. So far there has been minimal discomfort and no need for painkillers.
Meanwhile, ignore the stated possible side-effects of your medications. I read that one, Androcur, a testosterone blocker, could cause “swelling of the breasts”. Always prepared, I went to check out bras “for the full-figured man”. The sales lady recommended a front-hooking type as easier to manage. But I have had no swelling of the breasts whatsoever.
Many thanks to Dr Emtage, Dr Jim and the nurses involved. Maybe we can get Dr Jerry into politics.
Finally, thanks to my family for support and helpful comments. Like, I warned a daughter not to open the micowave too soon because of radiation.
“Well, if there’s radiation in there,” she said, “why didn’t you stick your doodles in and save us that money?”
They love me, my family!
Richard Hoad is a farmer and social commentator. Email porkhoad@gmail.com
