Mother Nature & Uri Geller walk into a bar

You may or may not have noticed, but I tend to be somewhat preoccupied by one particular subject. As much as it disturbs me that I may be boring you, this is all just for me and my sanity now, so we are just going to continue along the same vein of tedium.

It struck me, as it does every bloody four weeks, that right now, really fascinating stuff is happening inside our bodies.

OK, not so much in mine per say, unless you count the digestion of half a dozen frozen sausages along with amounts of zinc so abnormally high that my neighbours should be wearing haz-mats, but rather, in the bodies of 'the ladies'.

Right this minute, in ET for example, there are wee spermies lying in wait for that cocky egg to descend, today, tomorrow, or maybe the day after.

They will attempt to pounce on her and nibble their way in. They'll try to grip on for dear life and hope she sticks in the one spot.

If they manage that, it's the start of a life, a human. (Don't go getting all technical on me now you anally retentive livestock buggerers, it IS the start of life for the purpose of this tripe)

What gets me is that this immeasurable event could be taking place right in front of you, or even in you, and you don't know squat about it. Her nose won't glow redder, or her hair won't stand on end, or she won't start yelping uncontrollably.

Nothing.

This is where I have a gripe with mother nature, surely this is deserving of a more marked physical manifestation. Give me something woman, a sign of some sort, have an appendage burst into flames, or have a loud blood curdling noise emit itself from the female form, or even just a funny smell would do. Otherwise, you're really just being a teasing bitch.

I won't hold my breath.

I've also been thinking about the power of positive thought!

Take Uri Geller for example, he makes an entire nation's cutlery bend with a few 'Ummmms' and the odd rub of his temples. I'm fairly certain that if he can do that, he has the wherewithal to get a few bits and bobs together to form a zygote for us shagged out misfortunes.

In fact, he's a buddy of Michael Jackson isn't he? He's got kids and I have serious doubts as to whether anyone really bumped uglies with him to create them.

It MUST be down to Uri Geller that he has the little balcony danglers.

So Uri, this is a plea from my disease ridden heart to you, rub yourself and moan for me tonight while concentrating hard on my wife's innards.

There's a good chap.