“Sexist But Breaking News” ( A Skit)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

And now we interrupt your streaming service to bring you the latest breaking Sexist But Breaking News, with Earth’s weirdest-faux-alpha-male-yet-still-highly-likable-host…Phil E. Stein….

“Wifewars” (the undeclared WW3) has got so bad that the number of ‘Gnarlies held in purses’ instead of ‘Gnarlies held safe in scrotums’ has skyrocketed to heights not seen since ancient times – namely since 5000BC during ancient Mesopotamia’s pagan human sacrifice rituals.

While it is true that only the weakest of soldiers have been the worst affected (“married & Defacto beta men”) the crisis is now so militaristically acute, that as we speak one in every two men only now has only on average point one of their two allotted testicles still residing safely in their scrotums.

Our military expert Ms Val. E. Hollows could not join us live as she had to do her hair – but we did ask her “how bad this ‘case of the dissapearing gnarlies’ get”? She said & I quote:

If we extrapolate the graph of ‘Gnarlies left safely untouched in mens scotums to ‘Gnarlies held under duress in their or someone elses Wives/Defacto’s purses’, we eventually come to the omega point – where all the men in the world bar one mega alpha male have become eunuchs’

We then pressed our expert on the matter by asking ‘what will happen then’? To which Ms Hollows replied:

“I’m not sure – but I hope to hell that last ever, literally very ballsy, manly manly man asks me out on a hot date, I’ve gone all giddy just thinking about it!”

And with that I’ll sign off till next time, & wish all you married weak-o’s a testicularly safe nights sleep.

This has been Phil E. Stein for Sexist But Breaking News.

Tune into Sexist But Breaking News for the next ball breaking crisis.

“The Ballad Of Lost Gnarlies” (A Poem)

by M. Anton Smith

“The Ballad Of Lost Gnarlies”

She has your Gnarlies

But you’ve told yourself

You don’t really need them

Like old golf clubs

You no longer care

If she throws them

Into a swamp

You are the more spotted

Married Western male

And The spots are hives

And you live in the tiny spaces

Between her harangues

You haven’t priced your freedom

And she swooped on the sale

One day you will be free

But your Gnarlies are gone

Forever