Up and Running

2 readers… And I coerced at least one of them. Oh well, maybe things will pick up now I’m… “Up and Running”.

Speaking of running, (God, it just flows like treacle) Caster Semenya – New world 2 laps champion at doing running – has been asked to take a gender test to prove she’s a non-man. According to the IAAF who look after all the stuff at the running and jumping and throwing things championships, “extremely complex, difficult” test results were not due for several weeks.

Hmm… Confusing. ‘It’ (we’ll call he/she ‘It’ for now as not to offend ‘It’ incase ‘It’ happens to be the other reader of my noise) runs races wearing skin tight colourful lycra. Now, call me simple…

Go on.
Call me simple.
I’m waiting.

But I’ve always found it rather straightforward to distinguish between men and women. Here are my 5 foolproof methods:

1: If ‘It’ likes shopping it’s a woman.
Nah, kidding. I couldn’t resist. The comic stylings of Jim Davison and Bernard Manning had such a profound effect on me that it’s become part of my genetic makeup, along with my actual makeup from Max Factor. That would be a good name: “Hi, Max Factor”. People would shit where they stood.

Boy, old fat dead racist Bernard could sing though:

2: If ‘It’ slams doors and has a strop over water being left in the kitchen sink, it’s a woman.

Nah, I’m kidding. Seriously though, what’s the problem with leaving warm soapy water in there? Something’s always forgotten: Teaspoon. Mug. Smelly solid milk carver AKA Cheese Knife. “So I empty the sink and wipe it dry and THEN you find a fork that needs washed… JEEEEEESUS CHR… I’m washing it. I’m washing it now, it’s fine, it’s FINE. I’m not angry. Im not.. you’re angry, you’re angry. Wash your own fork! You’re not my mother! Huh? Oh. Shit, you are. Sorry mummy. Didn’t mean to swear neither. Sorry.”

3: If ‘It’ cries at…

Actually, forget all this. ONE quick test:

If ‘It’ has a weiner, ‘It’ is more than likely a man. Or Lady Gaga:

If ‘It’ has a mimsy, ‘It’ is more than likely a woman, or Miriam:

If ‘It’ has a series of scars like an East London Comprehensive detention room desk, just let ‘It’ keep the gold medal…


Man/Woman, life’s confusing. I’m going to have to take another look at my junk in the mirror. I hope this thing’s a penis. If it’s not, I’ve made some terrible mistakes…



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