Normally the Warner Music spam filter is more steadfast than a Bungalow 8 bouncer. But in recent weeks a series of clandestine, dissident emails have succeeded in infiltrating my inbox; and they are all from a sender called Holly Bush.
"Hey needle dick. Are you sick of women laughing at the size of your cock? Well Penis Growth 2009 can rid you of that bedroom embarrassment. A one week course will guarantee to increase not only the length, but also the girth of your wand, helping you eliminate those unwanted gaps for good".
Initially it's easy to laugh these emails off, but after a while they can start to play on your insecurities, chiseling away at the friable edifice of your confidence. Insidious and conniving they make you start to wonder. Spam. Spam. So in the name of exposing bad science and quackery, In Your Face decided to take on its most dangerous experiment to date and test a course of Penis Growth 2009.
Day One. The box of Penis Growth 2009 boasts that the pills are rich in 'Catuaba', apparently a natural penis growth herb found in Northern Brazil that 'has been used for centuries by the indigenous population of the region'. I pop the blister pack and neck one of the large brown capsules. After 10 minutes I start to experience an intense feeling of euphoria comparable to coming up on a strong E. A few minutes later a violent bout of involuntary teeth grinding kicks in. My jaw remains painfully clenched for the rest of the day.
Day Two. The lockjaw has subsided, but I feel downcast and listless. I'm unable to motivate myself at work and spend the day watching every single game of S.K.A.T.E on The Berrics website, which is kind of what I do everyday, only today I did it apathetically.
Day Three. I haven't taken a shit in two days. My abdomen is diffusely tender and I'm suffering sharp, cramping pains in my rectum. I've also noticed increased hair loss.
Day Four. Urinary retention has now made friends with the constipation. My urethra burns when I try to piss and weirdly my goolies have started to hurt. I finally break down in a Paolo Nutini planning meeting when I'm told I have to shoot his video in a week's time. Barbera Charone comforts me with a cuddle.
Day Five. 3 AM. I can't sleep. Xanax doesn't seem to be working, although it's hard to tell. Spam. Spam. I'm trapped in an appalling waking dream, transported back to my primary school latrine where Tyrone is seeing how high he can piss up the wall and nearly hitting the ceiling as amber urine cascades to the already flooded floor. Sharp yelling claps in my ears. S. P. A. M. The back of my throat feels acidic. I get up and vomit until my eyes stream. Fuck this shit man. I destroy the box of Penis Growth 2009 and flush the remainder of its contents down the toilet.
So after five days of taking Penis Growth 2009 virtually the only part of my body unaffected is my penis. The only conclusion I can draw is: beware of false prophets - by their fruit you will recognize them.
Word.
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