God, Peter, GB take a shot at SB.

A popular pub pastime is recounting the tale of how myself and GB cost SB a ball. The testicle malfunction story is dull and short as it was caused by an infection gained when undergoing an emergency appendectomy, which myself and GB are often awarded credit for.

Obviously, there is no reasonable way a person can actually cause appendicitis in another but the blame still lands on our uncaring shoulders fairly regularly. This is the tale of the night SB actually bust a gut.

It all started fairly innocently with GB finding some green pesto abandoned in a house we had recently moved into. The potential for comedy was immediately spotted. GB would smear the pesto around the toilet bowl, splash some in the water and maybe even smear a few lumps over the seat. He would then return to us and announce how fucked up his stomach was, at which point we would wait for SB to visit the toilet and find the carnage.

GB dutifully overplayed his part and we settled down to wait for SB to fall into his trap. Around an hour later SB departed upstairs. A few seconds later, much laughter was heard. Myself and GB went upstairs to "investigate". SB was literally crying with laughter and as yet unaware that the material smeared all over the toilet was not shit. I further inflamed the situation by falling onto the toilet seat and getting "shit" on my hands and trousers before assaulting GB in a mock rage and getting shit all over him.

At this point, SB was holding his stomach and giggling to himself, then whining that he'd laughed so much he'd pulled a muscle. For the rest of the evening, myself and GB amused ourselves by making him laugh and then watching him grasp his belly and writhe in pain. "It hurts, it hurts" was the constant cry.

At around 6am the next day, SB was taken to hospital. By around 2pm his appendix had been removed. By around 6pm, myself and GB were at his bedside with a get well card fashioned from an old envelope - cheap in price but expensive in sentiment. Unfortunately for SB, he was still unconscious at this point so we gave his card to a nurse. We then disappeared quickly and got lost in a paediatrics ward.

When SB returned from hospital we found that he had been treated rather strangely by one of the nurses. The poor nurse who had thought it a nice idea to open his card for him but then declined to put it up on display after inspecting it. Sadly the card was lost but I've created a replica. Feel free to print out and adjust as required for your own mortally ill friends.


Three days later, SB returned to hospital and became a one-ball-wonder almost immediately. The bitch-tits and testosterone injections in his ass may have made him the "man" he is today, but as per Batman with The Joker, myself and GB may well have pushed him into the vat of acid which started the madness.