The Nutcracker Suite. - By Michael Lewis - Slate Magazine

Splayed on the operating table, staring at the back of a nurse scrubbing her hands, I was struck by the possibility that, in addition to its other challenges, a vasectomy might be a socially awkward experience. "Do you need to empty your bladder?" asked the nurse, who clearly found hospital English the safest language in which to address a stranger's genitals. The clinic walls were undecorated, save for a lone medical drawing of the male sex organ, flayed to reveal its sober inner logic.

I suppose it's a precondition of being a writer that you can get a story out of almost anything. I admire that ability, I really do. But there is no way I could get a two page Slate piece out of my vasectomy experience which was quick, quiet, completely painless and free (well, I did make a 'donation' to the International Planned Parenthood Federation). It was performed by a retired missionary doctor who had spent most of his life in Africa and the Indian sub-continent and had carried out thousands of 'snips' over the years. Unlike the writer of the Slate piece I knew that a bollock-shave was required so I made sure I did it myself,beforehand. The thought of this old doctor slicing through my vans deferens didn't trouble me one bit but I just couldn't face the idea of having him shave me. Nah! 

Hot towel, sir?