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The Accident at the Convent Guest House
When I was a child growing up, my father was a self-employed builder who had a few men working for him. He patiently built his business and became a success, not only in business but as a father and husband. Infact, in later years we went on holidays twice a year and stayed at a four star private hotel in Peebles, Scotland.
But in my early years as a child, we would stay at Convent Guest Houses (Yes they were run by nuns), as they were much cheaper. However, my father always made sure I had two holidays a year. At Easter we would stay for a few days at a Convent Guest House at Ivor Heath. In the summer we would spend a week at a Convent Guest House in Girvan, Ayrshire, Scotland. This is where the accident occured!
The guest house in Girvan was a large property, which was more like a hotel. It had atleast two floors and hand a small old lift to take you to the various levels. We were staying in a family room, on atleast the first floor - my memory is not one hundred percent on this as it's nearly thirty years ago!
I was in the bedroom with my sisters, messing around as usual. On this occasion I was pretending to do a striptease, to the classic tune da deh da deh, da deh da deh! You are excused if you don't remember the tune, as I grew up in the 1970's. Back to the tale, as I'm in danger of doing a Ronnie Corbett.
The height of fashion in the 1970's was paisley y-fronts - you know what I'm talking about! Purple numbers with orange elastic, would set the girl's heart racing and cause major palpatations. Don't you wish your boyfriend was hot like me? (Please note that unlike the Pussycat Dolls, I can spell - most of the time!) Real men didn't wear briefs, that wasn't male underwear, for goodness sake. Therefore, at the height of my routine, I was wearing my y-fronts (I can't remember the colour combination) and zipped and unzipped my jeans as I pretended to do my piece.
If you've worn Y-fronts, you'll know that they don't always prevent fall out! This was one such case. I successfully zipped up and trapped my foreskin! Guaranteed to break the ice at parties. No blood, but major privates pain. What could I do? I shouted my dad. After a couple of delicate attempts at removal, it was decided that it was a trip to the hospital for me.
Therefore, walking on tip-toe I was escorted by Dad for support and we headed for the lift. It was then that we met her - Super Nun! I desperately tried to cover my modesty, while my father asked her where the nearest cottage hospital was.
We climbed into the lift and descended to the ground floor. When we got to the entrance lobby all of the nuns were there!!!! They were lining both sides of the lobby headed by the Mother Superior and there she was Supernun! To this day I don't know how she beat the lift and summoned the entire Sisters of Mercy, but there it is.
Once more my father explained the problem while I teetered on tip-toe. I think, no I remember, he said I'd had an accident and caught my "Winky in my flies." We finally set off to the hospital, with me in the front unable to bend at the waist.
Every cloud has a silver lining. After two injections where I daren't show my mother, to numb the sensitive area, the zip was cut out of my jeans. The zip fell apart and I was free - why didn't they cut the zip out first? They didn't need to jab me at all! It was decided that I was very brave and that I could have the Action Man Despatch Rider set that I had asked for earlier in the holiday, but had been told was too expensive.
You see, it was all worth it! Only kidding, don't try this at home children!
I've had a few embarassing moments, but this was one of the worst. However, it makes me smile now when I think about it. If you should want to try this gentlemen, make sure your Health Insurance covers you for Striptease! I no longer where Y-fronts, well - only on Sundays. There was no permanent damage, as we have one child and there's another one on the way.
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