Saturday, April 02, 2011

Cautionary tale

Here is a conversation I had recently. I promise you I am not making this up.
My informant: My goddaughter and her two children are coming to stay.
Me: Oh.
Inf: She has two daughters.
Me; Oh.
Inf: Her partner is a woman.
Me: Oh.
(pause, then)
Me: So, how.....?
Inf: She got sperm samples from America.
(pause, then)
Inf: By mail order.

Don't you just love homophones?!
It turns out that our mother received nine samples, so she and her partner have another seven potential daughters in the freezer.
What really irks me, though, is that the samples had to be ordered from America.  What's wrong with putting the business the way of us British wankers? As Tony Hancock might have said, our sperm is really good quality: pure AngloSaxon with a dash of Viking.
All these years of self-abuse, and I never realised there was a living to be made from it. Makes you spit, doesn't it?

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

And now that you know...?

Old Scrote said...

Touché! There is a technical reason why this avenue of potential income is no longer available to me, so I will just have to be content with my eroding pension and my dwindling royalties. But thanks for asking, anyway.