Holy guacamole! I've just heard about some science boffins who've figured out how to stop men from populating the planet with tiny versions of themselves. Apparently, they're testing some kind of wobbly jelly you shoot up the old meat-and-two-veg. I kid you not!
So, this company, what's-its-name, Contraline or whatever, they’ve cooked up this goo you pump into your peashooter. They say it's like slamming the door shut on your man-seed – easy in, not so easy out. And they reckon it works, had a gaggle of fellas in Australia playing guinea pigs for 'em.
Let me tell ya, this jelly business is meant to be like some fancy coffee filter in your knickers. The little swimmers can't get through, but the rest – whoosh, off it goes! The chaps got their family jewels poked and prodded, and cheaper than a dodgy vasectomy to boot.
But here's the kicker – I reckon I could've done it all better. I mean, come on, having some Quack-a-Doodle-Doo stab at your crown jewels with a big ol' needle? Good grief! If Ronnie Trumpet were in charge, it'd be no needles, no doctors, just a good handshake and a promise, sorted.
It gets me thinking. Should've been me inventing this stuff. Instead of faffing about with goo and gadgets, I'd just tell the lads, "Pull out, mate. Job done." I don't need no fancy hydro-what-its to know where to put my soldiers.
Anyway, that's enough of my two cents. But, listen here, don't go rushing to squirt jelly up your jollies just yet. Let the big brains sort it out first. And remember, when it came to it, your mate Ronald would have done it all without the mess and fuss. You're welcome.
– Ronald Trumpet
Based on the original article "A Gel Injected Into the Scrotum Could Be the Next Male Contraceptive".
