Hospital confessions:
I am making progress. I, and my publicist, Kate Moss, thank Mr Bigham for helping us to realise what is, at rock bottom, a rock bottom issue.
I further confess, which I had hoped to keep secret, that I gratuituously [(© Noel F. Jones] made a mock of a guinea pig having a handle placed up its derriere, because I, Senan Molony, was going, last week, for a prostate exam, the first of my life.
It was a defence mechanism, and I apologise most sincerely to muchacho Hugo.
I now realise, with a great deal of humility, and a large intake of breath, bulging eyes, and a wish that it would stop, that I do not have prostate cancer.
This news may disappoint some, but I am now feeling self-righteous about other men over 40 getting themselves checked out by - ahem - other men, and am actively learning the words to the Maxixe.
Tonight I had four pints. The man midweek said my girth had moved from the green part of the tape to the orange part. Very close to the red.
I am thoroughly ashamed and I confess all.