I’ve somehow agreed to do 100 push-ups every day in September.
That’s 3,000 push-ups, one surgically repaired shoulder, two balls and a level of confidence unsupported by medical evidence.
This is a terrible idea. Which is how you know it’s mine.
Prostate cancer is the most diagnosed cancer for Kiwi men. Around 4,000 blokes are diagnosed each year and roughly 700 die from it—which is considerably less funny than the word balls.
The arrangement is simple: I go up and down repeatedly until something gives. You put your hand in your pocket.
I’ve already donated to myself, which is financially circular and starting to look a little desperate. Your turn.
If you’ve ever made a balls joke, drawn a penis on something, laughed at 69 or told a mate to “harden up”, consider this your tax bill.
Getting checked can start with a chat to your GP and a PSA blood test, so nobody necessarily has to leap straight to the finger-up-the-arse chapter. That’s at least the second date.
Donate generously. Talk to your doctor. Look after your balls.
At 3,000 push-ups I expect either a chest or another shoulder operation. Let’s make it worth finding out.
And please don’t leave me hanging—sweating, trembling and completely spent with my arse in the air.
I’ve somehow agreed to do 100 push-ups every day in September.
That’s 3,000 push-ups, one surgically repaired shoulder, two balls and a level of confidence unsupported by medical evidence.
This is a terrible idea. Which is how you know it’s mine.
Prostate cancer is the most diagnosed cancer for Kiwi men. Around 4,000 blokes are diagnosed each year and roughly 700 die from it—which is considerably less funny than the word balls.
The arrangement is simple: I go up and down repeatedly until something gives. You put your hand in your pocket.
I’ve already donated to myself, which is financially circular and starting to look a little desperate. Your turn.
If you’ve ever made a balls joke, drawn a penis on something, laughed at 69 or told a mate to “harden up”, consider this your tax bill.
Getting checked can start with a chat to your GP and a PSA blood test, so nobody necessarily has to leap straight to the finger-up-the-arse chapter. That’s at least the second date.
Donate generously. Talk to your doctor. Look after your balls.
At 3,000 push-ups I expect either a chest or another shoulder operation. Let’s make it worth finding out.
And please don’t leave me hanging—sweating, trembling and completely spent with my arse in the air.
Go well!