Diccus Piccus

I have an appointment with the spreadsheet of doom this morning. Obviously, as the owner of a PhD in prevaricating the shit out of things, I am avoiding it by writing a blog post, because I do not have a revision time table to colour in with my best pens. Plus ca change etc.

I thought I’d take this opportunity to talk about men. Specifically men and their obsessive need to show everyone their penises.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ALL ABOUT THEN, EH? would be the title of my award winning essay on the subject.

Clearly this phenomena has been written about extensively by people other than me, but as the recipient of a few juicy Instagram private messages in recent months I feel that I am finally qualified to write about it from personal experience.

In the old days, when snail mail was the main form of communication you were unlikely to get a dick pic in the post, right? I mean it was probably logistical, thinking about it, because the enthusiasm with which modern males have taken to photographing their own genitalia suggests that this was a long felt want (ha ha!) just waiting for technology to catch up with the desire.

I mean, certainly in the old days, standing in front of an enormous box for ten minutes while the picture went off would probably be enough to dampen anyone’s ardour. Then, when cameras got more mobile, you would still have to send the film to Snappy Snaps to be developed, and you might not want Marjorie to look at you in that way when you went up to the counter to collect them, although judging by recent developments, maybe you would? That’s a bit of a conundrum.

I’d like to know if there was a surge in popularity when Polaroids were all the rage? Although film was so expensive it would only be for the upper middle classes in terms of affordability. Aristocratic knob pictures, probably in gilt frames and with the keys to daddy’s Maserati draped around the base like a very spendy cock ring.

So pre camera phones it was all about lurking behind bushes in the park, or trapping girls in train carriages if you wanted to expose your manhood to them. Now you can take a picture of your dick in the MacDonald’s toilets on your lunch hour and air drop it to the whole of Leicester by the time you get back to your desk should you want to, and it appears that quite a lot of men do.

BUT WHY? I am genuinely confused about this.

I’m going to nail my colours to the mast here, so to speak. I do not find penises attractive. I do not find scrotums attractive. I don’t find them attractive when they’re in a relaxed or aroused state. They’re just not things of beauty, despite the fact that used in the right way they can, for some of us, be a joy forever.

They are, for me, best described as functional. I’m really happy they exist, they are brilliantly designed for the work they do (I’m being kind here. They look like they were designed by a toddler, hopped up on e-numbers and let loose with the Play-Doh) but aesthetically speaking I think of them as a necessary evil. Sending me a picture of one is a bit like sending me a picture of a hoover. I’m delighted it cleans the stairs but I don’t want to sit and look at it in my leisure times, reminiscing about how it goes into the corners properly and is really good with lint.

I might be in a minority here. I may be one of the few women in the world who doesn’t take pleasure in opening a message to find a wrinkled, lump of flesh winking at them, but from the short opinion poll I conducted around my kitchen table, I think I’m not. Seeing a penis I haven’t ordered at best makes me hoot with laughter and at worse makes me think that I must do something about blocking up that hole in the decking to stop rats nesting in there. Pest control. That’s basically it.

I presume men send them because they find them terrifically attractive. I mean, I am led to believe that Grindr is awash with dick pics as far as the eye can see and that it doesn’t matter if you have a hunch back and a combover as long as you’re hung like a horse and ready to go. I presume the theory is that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, but all the ganders I know would rather you sent them a picture of a packet of Hob Nobs rather than your actual knob, thanks all the same.

8 responses to “Diccus Piccus

  1. Thankfully, not something I’ve ever gone in for, nor will I ever.

    I can’t offer a reason why they do it either; other than they are rather sad, inadequate individuals.

  2. Thank you for a good laugh! I needed that today!
    “They look like they were designed by a toddler, hopped up on e-numbers and let loose with the Play-Doh” may be my all time favourite description of anything, ever! ❤

  3. Katy, I am howling with laughter. John, who is driving us along the A470is finding it very distracting!. Nobody appreciates an unsolicited dick pic.. Although I’m beginning to think theres something wrong with me as I appear to be the only woman I know who’s never received one

  4. It reminds me of the old cliche of the flasher in a trench coat. I think it’s a form of aggression. Somehow their primate brain feels that they are dominating by making women look at their junk.

  5. Bonnie-Ann Black

    Hilarious. And completely NSFW..as I am laughing like a blue footed boobie (though my footwear is red today) and snorting quite a bit. All to say, I totally agree with you… not even Michelangelo or tye grecian sculptors of old have managed to make those bits delectable!

  6. How dare you….make me snort out loud while surreptitiously reading this post at the office. I could not agree more, both with your genuine confusion at the desire to share, as well as your opinion of the aesthetics of said portion of the male anatomy.

  7. It’s somewhere between finding them just plain unattractive and hysterically funny for me.

  8. Pingback: Other peoples blogs – Katy Boo – Diccus Piccus – Rose Tinted Ramblings

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