Since Thursday, I’ve been afforded liberty from the metaphorical grasp self-isolation had around my throat. Although, to be honest, that two week episode felt more like self-isolation had me by the testicles not the throat.

Yours truly utilising the term throat, though, as I’m fully aware impart the word testicles in my narrative would’ve perhaps offended some of my readers.

Individuals like the reverend Terry Exeter from Daventry, in the Midlands of England. The rev is an engaging enough individual, however, he suggests that God didn’t bequeath fellas testicles for them to be blasphemed about in offbeat blogs.

Going on to add these spheres are for procreation purposes. Along with mooting they should only be used by consenting, married adults who must close their eyes and have the light off during the intrusive and offensive act.

Reverend Exeter, who’s sermons are oft delivered while battered and bruised through tripping in an unlit bedroom, also frowns upon the drinking of alcohol and use of fraudulent Costco cards.

Despite his killjoy edicts and opinions, Terry Exeter is a popular man within his parish. Finding his church services overly dictatorial, very few people put much mind to his sermons. However, his tenacious work in attempting to fight drivers speeding around Daventry has won him many plaudits.

His approach of spending twenty minutes a day shouting “Slow down you reckless b******s” hasn’t resolved the issue. That being said, the doggedness displayed during his self-appointed project’s earned him kudos from Daventry folk.

Anyhow, I ordinarily endeavour to omit contentious locutions in my prose which’d offend Rev Exeter’s sensibilities. There are times, though, when a curse/inappropriate word needs imparting to paint maximum comedic affect to the scene’s canvas.

It’s not just Daventry’s most loved cleric who I always endeavour to avoid offending. I don’t want to put any of my readership’s nose outta joint. I want to augment ‘brand’ writesaidfred.org, not undo thousands of unpaid hard work with an ill-though out post.

The clergyman’s wife is similarly prude-like when it comes to the emergence of testicles in a conversation or prose. Deeming them Satan’s spheres, these globes necessary to seed humankind get a bad press from Audrey Exeter.

Footnote – When I say bad press, I’m referring to her reluctance to countenance crude references to testicles. Not that she undertakes a lacklustre approach to ironing the reverend’s bosker browns……. Actually, penning that’s just made me wince.

Please know dear reader, if any revelations emerging from my essays offend you I apologise unreservedly. Sometimes, though, attempts to prove I’ve the versatility to switch from writing articulate, thought-provoking, humorous narratives, to a more base level of prose.

Yes, I was talking about me in the last sentence!….. Blimey, tough audience….. I don’t get paid for this you know!

Seriously, though, it’s great to know that self-isolation has relented that metaphorical grip on my ‘throat’. Even though I’m predominantly still at home, the knowledge I can leave the house again (even with restrictions) provides an uplift in spirits.

Anyway, hopefully no one’s been offended with this right load of balls!!