I bet against him to soften the inevitable blow. My winnings were a Lamb Buzkazi (medium hot), which sounds a bit like Bukkake and has the word "kazi" in it.
Talking of strange sexual predilictions and slang words for toilet, is it REALLY six years since my first colonoscopy? I can state that laxative technology has come on since the heady early years of drinking about 2 pints of disgusting, greasy lemon flavoured evil and then suffering what can only be decribed as acute colonic spasms for 24 hours. Now you only have to drink a semi-generous snifter, and the contractions are far gentler (the penultimate occasion caused me to form, and burst a haemorroid, which led to some very interesting jackson pollock bright scarlet period abstract art on a porcelain medium. Which obviously convinced me I had cancer. In my book, a healthy ringpiece does not spray blood like a severed limb).
Anyway, this time I was lying there, relaxed under the influence of twice as much intravenous valium as the last time, and I felt disassociated enough from my guts to watch the screen. A bad mistake in retrospect as I could clearly see some sort of alien structure there and noticed a low murmuring twixt sawbones and nurse. Note for anyone going through the same thing - TRY AND RESIST any reflex action to sit up and point while you still have 8 feet of steel plugged up your hopper. you may experience some discomfort.
Anyway, they managed to snip it out with some sort of retractable claw widget attached to the end of the Devil's Own Fiber Optic, and then in an amzing piece of bedside manner, the quack told me he was off on holiday, so it wouldn't be until September at the earliest that he could let me know if it was just a benign little bit of evidence of my ageing body or a clump of malovelent cells hell-bent on taking me over and killing me. But not to worry, it was probably fine. ( He was the same bastard who told me, before my first time, that HE preferred not to use anaesthetic during the procedure. On the second occasion, I told him in no uncertain times that since it was I who was having the "procedure", and paying for it at that, I preferred, nay demanded, as much medical grade dope as my body could handle jacked right into my mainline right bastard now.)
I stared at him open mouthed, drooling slightly from the valium. Then let out one of the loudest farts I have ever done. If it hadn't been for that, and the valium, I think I might have grabbed him by the throat and forced his fucking tube right up his fucking nose.
He must have sensed my disquiet, as not two weeks later I got a letter telling me it was just a harmless little polyp with no detectable cancerous intent. Which was a relief. See you in three years, you evil, bad man.