Hello, I’m Louis, a VET who specializes in the sniping off of tiny cojones. Nobody in these parts seems to mind their female animals frenziedly reproducing because I never get customers banging on my door to have their cat, for example, sprayed. But woe-betide the animal if it’s male. Because of all the business I get, I can’t ever close shop. In a show of solidarity with the creatures that I de-male for a living, I’ve rigged a wire to deliver small electrical shocks to my scrotal area every time a customer steps through the door. This is how a day in my life goes:

7.00am: I’m asleep in the back of my establishment with my family. My family of six daughters and one wife who when in motion might easily be mistaken for four Sumo wrestlers struggling violently for one bowl of rice.

9.00am: At this time, I’m usually on my fourth pair of nuts. Some of my rivals have called me lazy for specializing in castration. Bollocks. Let it never be said that I lack enthusiasm for my job. There isn’t a harder working soldier in the cause of snatching the manliness (?) from between the legs of tiny unsuspecting animals. Others have called me perverted, have said that I get kicks from handling those tiny but perfectly formed, musky, lightly haired nuts.This is also a lie.

10.00am: Every hour, I pick a different tool, to keep things interesting. The one of the hour is the Burdizzo.

This tool employs a large clamp to break the blood vessels leading into the animal’s testicles. Once the blood supply is lost, necrosis occurs, and they shrink, soften, and eventually deteriorate completely. I like the word Burdizzo. It sounds like something that could fit nicely in a dancehall song.

10.30am: Because I’m an artist at heart, I take these thirty minutes to sketch a bit. I’m mostly inspired by the things I see around me everyday, so it’s perfectly understandable that framed illustrations of the nether bits of various male animals is what an observer will find blutacked to the walls of my office; along with a picture of Aldous Huxely with this written at the bottom: “No man ever dared to manifest his boredom so insolently as does a Siamese tomcat when he yawns in the face of his amorously importunate wife.” Where importunate=persistent. Hehehe. This one gets me through many dark moments. It’s sketchin’ time!

11.00am: A more lovely pair of plums, you will not find drawn anywhere on the planet. Ooh! It’s that shock again. Right. Back to work for me.

11.20am: So, what’s *snip this again? You’d like me to tell you about a day in *chop snip. Yowwwwlll. Drops knife. Gasp! Er..this isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. As things are, I’ve made this poor puppy more of a eunuch than is morally acceptable. No creature should ever have to pee out of a straw. I’m not a multi tasking sort of man. You made me do this horrible thing. You.

12.00pm: Lunch. You don’t mess with a surgeon’s lunch hour. I usually have boiled eggs with irish potatoes in their jackets and, well, anything round really. I try to be as dedicated to my job as humanly possible.

 1.00pm: Because I’m constantly working, things get awfully monotonous and I need some conversation to keep me going, you know. Keep the senses sharp. The duty of entertaining me rotates among my daughters. Today, Laura is telling me about some fellow named Boloki Samuel who stood for some post or other in Makerere a few months ago. His motto was ‘Man of no bollocks.’ No lies. He had posters and everything. Now that’s a man I’d like to have a long chat with.

 2.00pm: I listen to Dorcas- another one of my girls- read. Villa Incognito by Tom Robbins is one of my favorite books, because its main character is a beaver like creature called a Tanuki, with enormous nads. At one point in the book, Tanuki uses his balls to parachute down to earth. At another, he uses them as a raft to get to Beijing. I’m absolutely fascinated by this creature.

 3.00pm: I drink. There’s no way to euphemize this. I don’t think I’d be able to stand my job if I didn’t have a good amount of liquor sloshing around my body. You can’t begin to imagine the number of nuggets that I clip off every single day of every single week of every darn year.

5.00pm: Exhausted, I lie down for a bit and have my wife massage my hands between the folds of fat on her neck. This is more soothing than it sounds. I then let my mind wander and dream that I’m a super hero who stands outside vetinary practices always on the ready to dispense left hooks and ngolos to people who come looking like they might want to neuter their animals.


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