Stop saying bell end to the Sky man!

***Disclaimer: this post contains mild smut.  Those of a weak disposition may wish to avert their eyes***





You're still reading aren't you?  You saucy minx!

Ok, my husband says I have "no social filter", that's just a posh way of saying that I don't know when to shut up. He's right of course. Apparently the second time we met I asked if he was gay. I based my assumption on the fact he was wearing a set of wooden beads and that he had slightly camp hands. Ridiculous stereotyping, I know. You see, it would have been far more sensible to think it, but not say it, but it seems I'm just not capable of that.  I may also have had a couple.....I'd had a couple the first time we met as well, so many couples in fact that I don't actually remembering meeting him at all. He likes to make a big deal out if this fact, saying he obviously wasn't very memorable. But at least I didn't say anything ridiculous that time, my life could have turned out very differently.

My mouth tends to run away with me when I get nervous. For some strange reason I somehow ended up doing an impression of a person falling over at the school gates earlier, I don't even know how it happened, one minute I'm having a sane and rational conversation, the next I'm wobbling around like a delirious clown.  My mind panics while I think "I don't know what to say, I don't know what to say, say ANYTHING, make 'em laugh and it'll be fine"  and then it comes out.  Usually the worst possible, most inappropriate thing I could possibly say plops out of my mouth whilst silence falls and the eyes turn towards me, oh god the eyes....

Before we moved here I had a bizarre conversation with my Dad. He rang me, fairly early in the morning, and  we had one of the strangest conversations I've ever had in my life. At the time he was obsessing about where the Sky dish would be placed once we'd moved into the house we now share.  He was about to get the exterior walls painted and was concerned about the wiring being visible.

During this conversation my dear old Pa said "bell end" at least six times.  I'm not sure if the term bell end is universal, but just for the avoidance of doubt, we're talking male anatomy here.  Willies.  Specifically the ends of willies. Oh yes.  The first time he said it I let it pass, thinking he'd made some sort of conversational balls up (excuse the pun), the second and third time I was dearly hoping he just wouldn't say it again.  From then onwards I was so mortified that I hadn't said something sooner I couldn't bring myself to point it out.

He was using it as a term to describe the end section of our house, where the overhanging roof meets the walls.  Now it may be the correct term for this area, I don't know, but that's not the first thing any ordinary person thinks of when someone says bell end.

It felt like a ticking time bomb was about to go off, my Dad was INTENT on instructing the Sky engineer to strap any visible wiring under his bell end so no one could see it.  The Sky bloke was then going to think my Dad was either a nut case, or a pervert, probably both and then punch him, quite hard, in the face.  It was the golden shower conversation all over again (another story, it involves old ladies, rose bushes and being told that nobody is that disgusting and I have an overactive imagination, still a sore point, nuff said).  I HAD to stop him from having that conversation or he'd be a laughing stock.  Eventually I decided the best course of action was to consult my Mother, I located her delicately perched on the sofa in a room filled with builders, electricians, painters and the like. I cautiously and (as politely as I could) explained the situation to her using language that she could understand (no graphic imagery), she nodded sagely, and from her seat bellowed at the top of her voice "Kate says you mustn't say bell end to the Sky man - it means a man's penis"

No social filter, it's genetic.  Not my fault.

Ever happened to you?  Please say yes....