I forget exactly which drink it was that used to advertise itself with the slogan 'It's what your right arm's for'- but I rather think whoever sculptured this fine piece in Charleroi might have had that phrase in mind.
It's a steelworker, apparently.
Finally tiring of deleting the endless e-mails I seem to receive promising to increase the size of my manhood, I decided I needed to do a little definitive internet research to establish, once and for all, whether size really matters.
It's not a subject I have ever discussed with Mrs Blunt. She is of the 'You Take What You're Given, And Be Grateful For It' school of thought. As my experience of women other than Mrs Blunt is rather limited (and my tryst with that kiss-and-tell bimbo, Miss Jennifer Muffin, some twenty-odd years ago is not to be counted, for these purposes) I cannot know whether my endowment is either more or less than that of the average man.
However, I did find this useful piece of documentary material, which does rather suggest that women, as a species, have contradictory views on the subject...
Rather amazingly, I seem to have shrunk over the last couple of months.
For more years than I care to remember, I have fought to squeeze my portly frame into increasingly tight 38-inch trousers, fearing further expansion into even larger sizes might be on the horizon. Catching sight of my body in the mirror became a singularly unedifying experience, except that certain parts of my anatomy were only now visible that way.
Having graduated from small, to medium, to large - and then to extra large, I couldn't help but worry that 'Tory Party Councillor' size was just around the corner.
Then, something quite unexpected happened. Some magic synapse in my brain was triggered that sent me scurrying off to the municipal swimming pool. A weekly hour or so doing a few lengths has now become part of my regular routine.
This week, I found myself wearing (for the first time in more years than I care to reveal) a pair of slim, 32-inch jeans borrowed for the occasion from my son, Jasper.
Result! In addition, I am now able to view my manhood without resort to the wardrobe mirror.
And so, I can commend to you the simple pleasure of the swimming pool. If you suffer from the kind of girth expansion I did, you'll thank me for it.
