… when this ol’ Jurassic was growing up in Docklands Govan in Glasgow, there was no concept of cusswords and swearing being unacceptable language… the ‘F’-bombwas as familiar a verb/noun/greeting/adverb/adjective/ as any other WURD in circulation… likewise, terms of backstreet slums endearment, particularly if scampering away from more senior kids chasing we junior terrors, included the ubiquitous catch-all, ‘Up-Yer-Bum!’… attended generally with shrieks of laughter and built-in naughtiness… not until decades later, do I feel inclined to visit the same greeting to any and all of my fellow fellows on here… especially in pursuit of sum’thing I think vitally important… getting yer prostate checked…

…for years far more than I care to recall, I suffered from severe prostatitis, which, as any of yeez who’ve ‘been there’ will know, is extremely uncomfortable at best, and excruciatingly painful at worst… eventually, some eight years ago, I was able to…