Bottoms up!
This morning, I was forced to
listen to the hairdressers beneath my office discuss a male friend going to A&E
because he’d inserted “a whole champagne bottle up his arse”.
(I wasn't actually forced; I switched my fan heater off to hear the outcome.)
(I wasn't actually forced; I switched my fan heater off to hear the outcome.)
You learn a lot when you rent an office above a salon. Some of it you wish you could unlearn quickly. Apparently the bottle was “up there for a day and a half”. I can’t help but question the logistics. I also doubt the stylists’ testament: you couldn't get the whole bottle up.
How did he manage to assume a position to slide it in there in the first place? Presuming he didn’t have assistance. Was he then forced to stand for the duration? Why the hell didn’t he see a doctor sooner? The urgency of the situation would negate the embarrassment. Particularly if he didn't take the cork out first.
His chosen object sets the mind boggling. There are plenty of other household items and implements he could have used (I'm not speaking from experience). A champagne bottle is decadent. It suggests celebration. Perhaps he was raising a toast to a job promotion, then thought he’d take his party up a notch. Actually, not so much a notch as a neck.
I hope it wasn’t a Nebuchadnezzar. I'd start with a Jeroboam, then work my way up.