I’ve had just about enough of this. 9 months is normal I know, but I am almost 8 months in and clearly more impatient than I thought. Sorry for the silence people, but my life has not been the same since my forced “prank” conception. I’ve had it up to my lactating tits with ultrasounds and scans, patronising antenatal classes, badly-produced educational DVDs, painful probes and gels (I’m sore and very sensitive down there you bastards!), embarrassing weigh-ins, exhausting squat thrusts and the Dutch (nothing to do with pregnancy, I just don’t like them very much). It’s time to get this clearly very lazy human specimen out and into the world, so it can start living (and working) properly, rather than spoil it any longer in the warmth of my belly surrounded by chorizo and gin. I know babies don’t really grow inside the stomach, but it must be close enough to smell its contents. I’m a doctor and a bloody good surgeon when I choose to be – I can do this, I have some spare anaesthetic somewhere. If not, there’s always the dealer who hangs around on my street corner most Thursdays. He must have something that’ll occupy my nerve endings while I perform the necessary exit operation. I just need a bucket and a towel (for the sick and the sweat).
Watch this space folks, I shall soon be my own man again…
