Code RED.

I don’t know how this could have happened, but it seems that I, Professor Charles Human – professor, doctor, scientist, MAN – am pregnant.

Well, actually I DO roughly know how it happened. It was the end product of a series of stupid, purile, drunken experiments, conducted and goaded on by my peers. The evening started off quite amicably. I remember we were discussing the scientific probability that one day it would be possible for a man to become pregnant (a real man, not some ex-woman, post-op with a goatie). Then I vaguely remember me suggesting why not make that day today! Idiot. After being kicked out of our club at closing time (or possibly for shouting), raiding the nearby off-licence for their last case of Scotch, I recall we headed back to my institute feeling the night was still young. The rest is hazy. There was lots of alcohol. Then ethanol. I remember Dawkins trying to a call for a stripper (at 3am!) – as if that was going to help. Every time we go out, he tries to order a bloody stripper. He even did it once when we all went to theatre. The man is tit mad. Anyway, as I say I can’t remember much beyond that. There were tubes….vaseline…scalpels, and I think Hawkings raided the cryogenic store for something as I saw the poor janitor having to clear up broken glass nearby this morning. I don’t remember any pain. In fact I do recall a great deal of laughter and possibly cigars. But the evidence is there on my lower abdomen – surprisingly neat stitches. And what could be a cigar burn. When I saw my body in the mirror this morning, I suspected another practical joke from the boys – I knew Hawkings wanted to get his own back on me for pushing him down the steps at Waterloo station. So I thought maybe they’d stitched a clock or my wallet inside me again. But this was far more serious.

Buggeration. This has all kinds of implications for me. The main one being I’m going to have a baby. It’s definitely happening. I’ve just discarded the 27th ‘YOU ARE PREGNANT’ pregnancy test. At least I don’t have to worry about telling the father. As that’s me too. Just got the conclusive DNA test back from the lab, covered in smiley, laughing faces of course.

On the positive side, this adventure will provide a unique insight into the male side of pregnancy. I’ll still post my regular blogs on all things human and science, but I will occasionally also post dedicated blogs on this new point in my life. There’s lots to talk about obviously. A great deal for me to think about. I’m going to keep it, there’s no question of that. In the critical interests of science, human nature, historical significance and also because my ex-wife always wanted one and when she finds out, she’ll be livid. Ha! Plus you get £190 from the government – simply for getting up the duff.

I will of course deliver the baby myself. I just don’t trust anyone else. I’ll perform a Caesarean section under a local anaesthetic – whereas I am usually against such artificial means of bringing a child into the world, I am equally fond of my penis and fear that, following the evacuation of an infant through it, the old boy will closer resemble a recently vacated sleeping bag.

The really odd thing is, after less than 24 hours my stomach seems to already be slightly larger. Admittedly this could be down to the whole chicken I consumed for breakfast – strange craving I had at 7am, I simply couldn’t deny my body it and was almost breaking down the door to Sainsburys. Gave the fella on the rotisserie counter quite a shock as I gorged on the roast poultry in front of him. I also bought some spares in case I am overcome by a similar urge tomorrow.

Anyway, I had to blog my initial reaction to this news but now I must dash – feeling queasy and need the loo again! (eleventh time in the last hour)


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