|She's got the jack as AC/DC might say|
They kindly send us another reminder and this time with a booklet telling you how it's as wonderful as faery dust to have your smear test, so will you PLEASE make an appointment.
Usually, by this time your girlfriends have had their letters and you sit about chatting to each other and promising that you WILL book an appointment and....before you know it, three years have passed and it's Time To Do It Again.
I was discussing this with Tertarus's man-love's wife (DO keep up) Let's call her.....Penelope....and we both bemoaned the rigours of the smear. Her husband, Tertarus's man-love,....let's call him Keef...shook his head and said he didn't know what all the fuss was about.
We women stared at him blankly and Penelope asked, in a low, even voice what he thought a smear test consisted of. Tertarus shifted uncomfortably as although he had no idea himself, he was confident that the God-fearing Minister's son next to him had even less of a real idea of what it was about than him. He tensed up, waiting for Keef's thoughts. 'Well,said Keef, doesn't the doctor just get a wee glass slide and just ....rub it in your snail trail.'
Although I was snorting into my drink at this point and wondering just how he had managed to father two children, Penelope explained, in the same low even tones, that it was NOT just a glass slide rubbed quickly over your knicker gusset.
'Oh no', I continued, picking up the gore baton.'You have to lie on a bed with your parts hidden beneath a little Modesty Towel and are asked to put the soles of your feet together and to gently let your knees drop either side. This is the first tricky bit', I informed him, 'because your leg muscles start to twitch uncontrollably and your thighs start to quiver like 3-day old milk'.
'....and then,' I carried on gleefully,' they put the metal speculum into the sink and run hot water over it to Heat It Up before covering it in lubricant gel.'
By this time Tertarus's and Keef's eyes were out on stalks - and not in a salacious way - in a Brian The Snail sort of way.
'...and THEN they take this THING that looks like it belongs on the forecourt of a BMW garage and stick it up your chuff...... and THEN they crank you OPEN!!!!'
At this point Penelope is nodding vigorously '....and THEN.....they tell you to RELAX....and your legs start jumping even worse and.......THEN', I intoned, enjoying my Hammer Horroresque performance 'they stick a tiny little cotton bud thing up you and take some cells, unjack your fanny (which inevitably makes the dreaded fanny fart noise), wipe off all the extraneous gel and then that's you done!'
Keef blinked for the first time since we started our explanation. 'I preferred my way,' he said meekly.
'So would we,' I muttered darkly into my glass.
So, dear reader - guess where I'm going this afternoon?