“Why are you sending him home?” said the gushing lady TV presenter. “He’s got this dodgy looking penis. I just don’t like the look of it.”
I fell in love for the first time when I was ninety-three years old. Ridiculous as it may sound, it’s true. I met the woman I fell in love with, Molly, in hospital, in the cardiac critical care ward, where we were both being held after undergoing heart attacks, which we’d successfully, putatively recovered from.