Victor Lewis-Smith Column: Masturbation.
I HAVE a confession to make about what I was caught doing yesterday in front of my computer screen (it's something that many men are doing nowadays).
Using the standard Microsoft Flight Simulator package, I took off (virtually) from JFK, made a brief announcement ("We thank you for selecting Terrorist Airways for your flight - we know you have a choice"), and then flew into the virtual Twin Towers, screaming "Allah Ackerbilk".
She who must be obeyed caught me, shook her head contemptuously and said: "You need to get out more."
I understand that many chaps' greatest computer-based fear is to be caught looking at internet porn, which is why the most sensitive organ in the male body (especially during the teens) is usually the ears.
But there was good news for all cyber-onanists this week, because a medical study by researchers in Australia suggests that regular masturbation protects men against prostate cancer, which claims the lives of 10,000 British men each year.
During my formative years, this universal but seldom acknowledged practice was referred to disapprovingly as "self-abuse", and dire warnings were issued that it would lead to blindness and insanity.
Yet now doctors are encouraging us to do it at least five times a week, to flush out carcinogens.
Now this is a family newspaper and I'm aware that many readers may be uncomfortable with the M word. But news of this latest medical discovery needs to be spread far and wide, so in the spirit of John Cleese (who invented dozens of synonyms for the death of a parrot), allow me to supply you with all the euphemisms you'll ever need.
How about firing the wobbly warhead? Or meeting Mrs Palmer and her five daughters?
Or bringing Mr Weasel back from the dead; bleeding the lizard; disobeying the Pope; choking the chicken; teaching Yul Brynner (pictured) some respect; launching the tadpoles; making oyster soup; manually increasing the surface temperature of the ship's primary cannon by repeated linear manipulation; playing the hairy banjo; playing the pink oboe; evicting the testicular squatters and warming up the altar boy's dinner.
But for me, the overall winner (which will be awarded a pair of overalls) has to be "making the bald man puke".
Best of all, the researchers also disproved a hoary old scare story. Contrary to what you may have been told, it dosn't maik yor eyse go funy.
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|Publication:||The Mirror (London, England)|
|Date:||Jul 19, 2003|
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