Talking Cock

An argument that had been simmering on Notoriously Fickle Girl’s blog has since boiled over like a giant cyber-saucepan, the contents of which are now splattered across the kitchen work surface of my comments page. It’s not every day that someone visits your blog with the sole intention of telling you that you are ruled by your penis, but hey – at least I’m expanding my global audience.

When I was eighteen, I thought I ruled the world (and yes, I was probably receiving a good proportion of those instructions from my loin area). I’m old enough and wise enough now to know that there is a great deal that I have to learn about life, so I keep an open mind about everything (and that means looking further than the pages of a textbook…).

I think as we grow older, we forget what it was like to feel like that – you’ve just left school; you’ve got your driving licence; you can go into a pub and cry “bring me some ale, wrench!” without the fear of being ID’d. It feels like the world is your oyster and anything is achievable. Of course, as you grow older, all your dreams slowly fade away – I’ve already had to tick off the possibilities of being an F1 driver or an international DJ (although I’m still clinging on to the hope of finding my feet and ending up as a late signing for Arsenal…).

Anyway enough of the misery – I’m only 26 and my penis still works (although I let him know who’s boss these days). Life is like a plate of oysters – you never know which one is going to make you vomit. Or something like that. I’m just going to carry on as I am and see what it throws up.