Leaky Cornhole

We're like skirting board you know? We exist, but there's really no reason for us at all. We're just the sorry conclusion of evolution so far; four billion years worth. Four Billion years! Fuck me it's tragic.

After a length of time that is completely incomprehensible, you would have thought nature could muster together something, anything, better than us. We plod around; sour faced, self-absorbed shit tanks, crawling from one disappointment to another with nothing but abject piffle to fill the vast, black chasms between.

Talking of vast, black chasms, i saw an arse that could advertise scurvy this week. In fact, this is the kind of gruesome imagery that you can expect to enjoy every week, courtesy of Channel 4's "Embarrassing Bodies". Each episode focuses on ten or so people who have life-stalling problems with their bodies, and allows us to delve deep into the most graphic and personal of details....or their arse. They each come to the team of doctors to seek advice about the embarrassing illness which befalls them, and in the process, we, the vultures of misfortune, get to feed off their personal anguish. It's got everything we want, doesn't it? We get to gawp at illnesses that are as cruel as an assault in a piss stained alley, but we also get to rejoice as they embark on their remarkable yet inevitable recovery. It's a viewers dream; shocking but thrilling images, raising of your self esteem, and joyous closure; it's like sex with a leprechaun.

Often the patients tell us they are too embarrassed about their body to change in front of their partner, or to visit their doctor without a screwdriver in case they have to gauge his eyeballs out to stop him screaming at their grotesque disfigurement. Why then, do they see national TV as the most confidential, incognito path to a cure? If their abominable illness wasn't enough, and being paraded around on national TV didn't ensure full and categorical abasement, the juxtaposition between the repugnant illnesses and the fully made up, radiant doctors makes certain that they are the most embarrassed that they could possibly be, ever. The title lends itself to reinforcing the shame too, it should be renamed, how about 'shit bodies' or 'let's stare at people with really unfortunate anatomy'?

If i have a shitting problem, the last person i want poking around with my grey, leaky cornhole is an attractive female doctor who looks like she just fell out of heat magazine. I want a down-trodden, bearded old man whose face is on a similar level to that of my infected arse.

Another baffling notion is why it has taken so long for so many to get so much that was so desperately needed. Too often are my ears caressed with 'i've been shitting blood for 5 years now' or 'i've had a gargantuan puss head for 17 years now'. Why has it taken them so long to realise there is a broad misfire occurring?

The programme is positively graphic with very little filter for anything taboo, from arseholes to bellends, you'll witness it all. I'm not complaining though; i'm a misogynist just like the next man. Just like you. sicko.

I suppose i had better be thankful that i am one of those shit tanks, plodding around with my sour face; that's all that keeps me from being one of those poor bastards that you see on TV, you know, the ones with the shit bodies?