I know it's been a while, but listen up old chap, I've got some news for you.
You have another chance.
Okay I know you've had lots, but this is a big one.
You see Spencer, I've told you before you are the chosen one, a natural leader among (se)men, you are the milky trojan warrior, explorer of fallopian wildernesses, captain upon mucus covered cervical seas, and hopefully, the capturer of eggish damsels in distress.
Your qualifications alone will not seal your place in history though, luckily the fates of football and ovulation have combined and lined you up the perfect opportunity.
Holland's quarter final game against Russia is on Saturday night, and we already know the benefits a drunken sporting celebration can bring.
Remember Ellie, that piece of skirt you've been chasing? well, guess what? She's going to be in town then.
So what are you waiting for? Everything is ready and waiting for you, (15th time around you lazy prick), the sun is shining (somewhere, probably), it's the weekend, you'll have a (socially acceptable amount to) drink, watch some sexy football, so why not top it off by hooking up with a nice bit of booty?
Tap that eggy ass for the love of God, you know you want to.
'What's the hurry?, why now?' I hear you say.
Well Spencer, balls are rolling once again.
Straighten yourself up and stop laughing, I don't mean those two plums you spend most of your day in, I mean 'metaphorical' balls.
Steps are being taken, and after this cycle, it may well be out of your hands, and well, you'll be back in mine, once again.
The bottom line Spencer, my favourite little Casper lookalike, is this - This.Is.It.
It's being put on a plate for you, physically, cosmically, romantically, and desperately.
Worm your slimey little arse all the way in and up, and hold on, by your teeth if you have to.
Otherwise, you face the sack, or worse still, the plastic cup.