In this week's adventures in weariness, I give you: the penis consultation.
Gent is dragged into pharmacy by wife who is worried about his weeping penis rash. I would be too, but he is positively jovial for some reason I do not care to get into.
Wide area on top of scrotum, not penis, looks more like a burn. Questioning reveals has been nude sunbathing but didn't apply sunscreen to nads after 'what happened last time'. In NEW ZEALAND. You know, the place where you need SPF50 to walk to your mailbox.
Anyway. Advice (free), on to the next patient. I start to search the shelves for their script. A colleague asks what I'm looking for. And what does my mouth say?
Penis.









