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Tokyo – Monday 5th December 2011

Okay, it is true, I can now confirm that it is absolutely true what they say about Japanese Men. Japanese men ARE indeed SMALLER than the western equivalent and I know that for absolutely certain. In this case though I am talking about their hands and fingers, but mainly fingers, oh yes their little fingers. I can say for sure that Japanese Mens’ fingers are smaller than westerners, and I can be so damn sure because I had one of them stuck right up my ass in Tokyo.

But now your saying how does he know what a western finger feels like up his ass?

My only real benchmark to the size of fingers up there has got to be limited to those unfortunete times when the toilet paper is soaking wet, or perhaps the over excited girlfriend plunges something up there in the heat of the moment, or maybe that classic game of pokey pokey bum hole. My ass has yet to be penetrated by a real western benchmark, but from that little experience I found that the Japanese Men were no Salad Fingers. So on this day, I was christened by this Mr Dr Japan, a Japanese looking man, short with jet black hair.

I had been feeling ill for a couple of days, ahhhh poor me, and so I got myself to the international hospital in Tokyo. I was heading for Thailand next and this was a chance to get seen to by someone who hadn’t bought his credentials from Khaosan Road. So I was diagnosed, given a prescription and then an given an opportune inspection of the prostate.

This is also the day when I learned where the prostate was.

When he asked me if he could inspect my prostate I pictured him cupping my balls and me giving a bit of a cough. I didn’t want to appear shy or hesitant so I pulled my pants down to my kankles in one fluid movement, still stood up. Well, I'm sure he has seen plenty of dicks before, he has been to Japanese Onsens for Christ sake, but there in front of him with his pants down his ankle was the biggest dick going..... me. “No, No, on the bed, legs up” he spoke in his Jinglish.

I hesitated but laid on the bed and lifted my knees.

Whoop, there you go….

And that is how I learned where my prostate was.

This enlightenment, this Christening don’t forget, and this decisive moment between us was ruined by Mr Dr Japan answering his mobile phone all the while his nimble finger was still fishing for the truth.

I don’t understand Japanese, but I'm pretty sure this phone call was not about the rectum of a European Vs the Japanese Variety, and i am pretty damn sure that he didnt tell that poor person what he was doing with his other hand at that precise moment in time!!

This was one ambidextrous Doctor i tell you.... He had been to Glasgow and London you know, strange the conversations you have in such awkward moments...

Blog by David Beattie of Rounton Coffee

Posted by beatski 06:01 Archived in Japan Tagged tokyo japan international hospital doctor infection prostate kidney Comments (3)

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