Every year I have to endure an hour of poking and prodding by a sadistic white-coated doctor who then tells me with a worrying tone of sadness that I’m ok. This stems from a time a few years ago when I had kidney stones, an ailment which rears its head every now and again. The wife has been nagging me for ages to get it done so I thought several million Brownie points could be scored after the airport incident.

    You should all know however, the reason for my reluctance.

    The check-up involves an internal examination.

    Firstly however, the doctor takes a blood test with the words “You might feel a little prick”. A little prick? I feel a complete arsehole stood there in a gown that does up from the back leaving my bare buttocks on display to any nurse who decides to wander in. Besides, when taking blood, it doesn’t feel like a scratch or a prick, it feels like precisely what it is…a needle being pushed into your arm.

    But these are not the words that filled me with dread…those were far scarier:

    “This may feel a little uncomfortable”

    I’m made to bend over the examination couch as the doctor snaps on a pair of latex gloves and reaches for a tube of petroleum jelly.

    “I’m just going to insert a finger so try and relax”

    What?

    How the fuck am I supposed to relax after a sentence like that?

    I don’t get much time to reflect on the question as without further ado my annual encroachment starts.

    It feels like a telegraph pole is being shoved up my backside and just when I thought my poor arse can take no more he starts to wiggle his finger around. I don’t know exactly what he’s looking for but if he tries to get any further up he may be able to pull out my tonsils through my bottom.

    His finger is finally retracted and a squelching pop indicates he’s finished. I can start to breath again. I buried my head into the pillow and decided not to turn around just in case he’s doing something awful like zipping his pants up or licking his fingers.

    This brings me to an important point. We trust doctors because they have medical degrees but how can we be certain they are who they say they are? We never question their propriety. Ok, there are some impressive framed qualifications on the wall but how do we know they belong to the person performing the procedure?

    For all I know my examination could have been performed by the man who delivered the sandwiches and simply put on a white coat to enjoy his hobby during his lunch break.

    Next year I’m taking two witnesses, a legal representative and a video camera.

    I drove home very slowly and sat on a couple of cushions for a few hours while my bum returned to it’s normal state.

    Understandably I didn’t much feel like playing any poker so my bankroll remains exactly as it was at close of business yesterday. We have to make another trip back to the airport tomorrow so the tournament opportunities may be quite limited but if I manage to play any I will of course keep you up to date.

    I expect to get my usual clean bill of health in writing sometime over the next week and can only be thankful I have to endure such degradation once in a twelve month period. I guess really I should be thankful there’s nothing afflicting my testicles or penis. Fuck knows what fun they could have with them.

Starting bank:  $0