Soz, but seeing as my tea was ruined last night by this story on my local news channel (video clip here, athough I'm not sure anyone outside the UK can see it), it's only fair that I disrupt your lunch. Long and the short of it; that bloke up there with the massive jubblies has had a request for a breast reduction turned down, and he's not happy. To put it another way, like most people on a Friday afternoon, he's desperate to get off his tits.Although he's a bit of a chubbo (and that Clockwork Orange-like pic is not the most flattering in the world - and if you stare at it long enough, you can actually see Freddo the Frog, so don't), I think it's fair to say that he is pretty well stacked, regardless of beer gut. If I were in the changing room at the swimming baths and he lobbed those out, for example, I know I would look upon my own perky little sausage-tits and feel a bit intimidated and underdeveloped.
(Then I'd start worrying that he'd come over, pick my flimsy training bra up with his thumb and forefinger and sneer; "What do you need this for? You've got nothing. You'll never get a boyfriend with fried eggs like that", and I'd start crying. But that's just me. Ignore it)
The NHS have knocked him back for a second time because they claim that the operation would be cosmetic surgery, and that he has to a 'social, psychological and physical benefit' to justify it. Dunno about you, but I say that there must be huge psychological benefit to being male and not having massive knockers if you don't particularly want them, and you have to wear five layers of clothing and have to wrap bandages round your tits like Judy Garland in the Wizard of Oz. There was one kid at school who had the same problem, and his life was a morbid carousel of sex-crazed piss-taking youths trying to cop a feel through his jumper, leering at him in the changing room, and asking him if he's given anyone a soapy tit-wank yet.
Come on, NHS - stop being such mingebags and get the tits off for the lad.
