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The Unexpected Finger

  • By Becky Bond
  • 14 Apr, 2017
My husband feels violated. He took up the offer of a free health screening through work, but didn't realise it involved a rubber glove. We've since found out that wear loose clothing is code for you will have to cough and drop .

"Did you at least have a shower this morning?" I asked. He had, but the appointment was at 2pm and a lot can happen in six hours. A once-over with some lavender-fresh is fine for low level workaday business, but if you knew someone was going to be probing your anus, you might be tempted to reach for the carbolic soap. And your best boxers.

Doctor Digit also wanted to check out his meat and two veg, but Sam couldn't face it, promising to have a thorough rummage himself when he got home. I wondered if it was because she was a woman, which led us onto the conundrum of which would be more embarrassing – unwanted arousal or an accidental guff.

How do medical professionals practice the finger-up-yer-bum routine? Do you think there's a wardrobe full of silicone arses and lube? Perhaps they line them all up like in The Generation Game and you've got to pop in your index and guess if it's healthy or needs further investigation. Maybe there's a grid for comparison, much like the Bristol Stool Chart, but for sphincters.
Could you imagine if it was like at school when they say "Right, get into pairs..."? Who's going to want the smelly kid for that? Or the one with massive hands? Or worse, if it's odd numbers, the teacher?

Perhaps skint students can offer their services. I accept it's a little more invasive than sperm donation, but if you had a free half hour and wanted some notes for a night out, it might be worth considering. You could even get a sticker for being brave ( My Bum Saves Lives / I Took a Digit for the Doctors ).

The good news is that everything's tickety-boo on the healthy husband front. Normal bloods, standard reaction to the hammer-on-the-knee and he's still all there up there . Basically, he's in good nick for a forty four year old if you don't count the keyhole surgery on his hip, a touch of tinnitus and some persistent phlegm.

But it's my turn next – for the female equivalent – the smear. I'm hoping my appointment will be a gusset-fresh kick-off at 8am. I've already ordered the carbolic, and my M&S a cotton-rich tanga briefs are on stand-by.

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