Friday, 13 June 2014


So, gals, here's the thing. 

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered I suffer from a previously unknown condition called 'simia cervux' (to give it its Latin name), meaning my cervix is basically a monkey.

This shocking discovery was made during a routine smear test, when the practice nurse, having pried me open with an icy metal speculum THIS big (the bronze vaginal dilators of ancient Rome are an excellent reference point), made an exasperated announcement.
“Cheeky little monkey your cervix, isn’t she!”   
As always I tried to make light of things.
"Ha ha! Maybe try banana on top of the swab?!” I said. Like a twat.
She shot me one of those weary “not again” looks that people usually reserve for moments when they a) step in dog shit or b) hear something Michael Gove said. Which is very fucking annoying, as it was she who brought the monkey into the conversation in the first place.

I'm not a fucking vet, love. 

Of course, this isn’t the first time my lady parts have been treated as biological rarities. (A mermaid foetus? A two-headed dog? A kidney stone the size of Jupiter that also happens to have the face of a transmogrified Jesus? Whatever. For a whole sackful of proper weird, just try looking DOWN HERE ...) 

Take my first-ever smear test at the tender age of 25, when the nurse, after some protracted rummaging, said:
“You have a very long vagina. I’ll have to go get the longer speculum”.  
The way she said "long", it was as though she had accidentally walked the whole length of my vagina, realising, too late, that it was exactly the same length as the Wales Coastal Path. After a massive manhunt for the outsized speculum, involving two other doctors, she suggested I “pop” onto my knees. 
“Do you mean doggie style?” I said.
I don’t know why I said doggie style. I was ALREADY more embarrassed than I had ever been in my entire life, except for the time my mother found a cucumber on my bedroom floor.
“Yip, uh uh”, she said.  “I’ll be able to reach up higher then.”
In hindsight, I’m surprised that she didn’t mention the cheeky little monkey who lives at the end of the Trans-Vaginal Interstate Highway, you'd think she would n'all, but either she was too frazzled to notice, or my cervix is actually a 'normal' cervix. 

PS: This week is Cervical Screening Awareness Week. Go get yourself screened. Beware, though, of all the public health advice that tells you it doesn’t hurt because it hurts Like A Motherfucker. Then again, if it saves your life, who cares?! As for the nurses who may or may not call your cervix a little monkey or refer to your vagina as “down there”, I suggest you practice saying VAGINA and CERVIX in the mirror beforehand. Then you can introduce them all properly and be friends. Yay!


  1. The Trans-Vaginal Interstate Highway...... Why did that remind me of Kraftwerk? Brilliant post, and I'm crossing my legs in empathy. How illuminating it must be to know that you have a long tunnel with the face of a monkey! X

  2. Ta love. I'm tempted to get myself one of those Love Thy Cervix 'empowering kits' featuring reusable speculum, flashlight and hand mirror, so I can say hi to the monkey in person. Seems rude not to. Here it is if you're interested.

  3. Well I think you did a sterling job considering the weak comedy material you'd been given to work with. Since when are bananas not funny??

    Also I'm very admiring of your SEO this week. Was wondering if Ed Balls might also make a helpful addition?

  4. Bananas are inherently hilarious. Although I may actually steer clear of any mention of fruit and vegetables in future posts as the reference to the still warm cucumber has elicited a few jokey remarks at the school gates! *puts house for sale*