My balls are still causing me trouble

After last week's debacle, I took my balls out fully pumped this week. I crushed them into the car and set off on my long and dangerous journey to my final destination..... a destination which is all of 200 yard away but requires negotiating a level crossing.

I'll give you a tip - if you are crossing a railway line, along which very fast trains regularly thunder, DO NOT under any circumstances, let your balls interfere with your gear stick. There was a somewhat tricky moment. A moment where time (very briefly) stopped and I battled against the balls and (thankfully) won.

As I (with more than a relieved sigh) got back into gear and cleared the level crossing, it suddenly hit me that had everything ended in a horrible crunch of metal, I probably would have had a few problems filling in the insurance forms (that is of course presuming that I'd managed to open the car door and flee the scene).

I can imagine it now:

Man at Esure: 'So could you explain madam, just why you stalled whilst abreast the railway?'
Me: 'Well it was my balls....'
Man at Esure: 'Sorry?'
Me: 'My balls, they interfered with everything'.
Man at Esure: 'Interfered with what?'
Me: 'I didn't realise how much room they took up. I underestimated. When it came to it I just couldn't get my gearstick back in the right slot'.
Man at Esure: 'Could you just confirm your name again? And your address....'.
Me: 'I kept trying to slam it in but they just kept bouncing of it.....'

OK OK I'll stop there. I'm supposed to be writing a blog, not a script for 'Carry on at the Crossing', but needless to say, I am slightly nervous about taking them out again. Suggestion on a postcard please. I'm currently toying with the idea of netting them and tying them to the roof. Or stabbing them....with a very sharp knife.....

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