A while ago a German court decided that the circumcision of young boys for religious reasons was illegal following a grievous bodily harm case against a doctor who had circumcised a four-year-old Muslim boy on his parent’s wishes.
This decision is sure to spark outrage amongst the Jewish and Muslim communities within Germany and I couldn’t help but remember a certain debate between Christopher Hitchens and a Rabbi in which he fires his beautiful trademark antitheistic vitriol with devastating aplomb.
The court ruled that “the body of the child is irreparably and permanently changed by a circumcision.” As a result the court also decided that the religious freedom of the parents and their right to educate their child would not be unacceptably compromised, if they were obliged to wait until the child could himself decide to be circumcised.
It also reminded me of the time I first discovered that I had also had my manhood so brutally violated. I must have been 11 years old when I first discovered from my grandmother that my father had authorised a Rabbi to mutilate my genitalia several days after my birth. I had always wondered why my friend’s penises closer resembled some sort of terrified newborn baby mole and mine a ripe mushroom on a crisp winter morning.
Naturally I reacted with apoplexy and stormed towards him spitting feathers demanding to know why I had not been given a veto regarding the continued structural integrity of my meaty man-muscle.
For a Lebanese Sunni man to entrust his first born’s shriveled chipolata in the hands of an Orthodox Jew probably says something quite nice about race relations and gives hope to some semblance of peace finally existing in the Middle East. However this was not about gaining peace in the “Holy Land”. This was about losing a piece of my unkosher pork warrior. I should say that I am more than satisfied with my luncheon truncheon, and the lack of sensitivity has probably helped me impress a few people over the course of my lifetime, this was more for me an issue regarding choice, one which I may not have taken considering I value all religious doctrine less than I do fresh toilet paper.
So I was have the usual Thursday drinks at the Old Blue Last with a good friend of mine Jason Duncan, when he suddenly piped up that he was due in for a circumcision on Saturday morning. Apparently this was quite a common problem amongst young men and quite a normal procedure to have done. Considering my mixed feelings on the subject I thought it would be great to talk to someone through all stages of the process to help men circumcised and uncircumcised alike to deal with issue.
Anyway, I published the whole thing for VICE so check it out:
VICE: Hey Jason, please tell us why the fuck you’re doing this.
Jason: Well, I’ve always had issues with my foreskin. You don’t realise you have issues when you are growing up, because you don’t know about other dudes’ penises, just your own. So you think everything is pretty much standard, but then when you grow up and go through adolescence, you start meeting other people and girls get involved and it becomes a bit different.
So what exactly was your problem?
Basically my foreskin is too tight. It’s like my dick is wearing a belt when I’m fully erect, near the top. It’s like it’s wearing a corset. I was talking to my best friend Laurence about this once when we were younger and he had exactly the same problem, so he got a “Cirque du Soleil” – which is what I call it.
Your name for circumcision is the name of a French circus?
Yes. Laurence got it about two years ago and he says it’s improved his performance ten-fold, which is not much of an improvement for Laurence, but whatever. So I’m going to go and get it done too.
So is it purely for sexual improvement?
Well it’s for hygienic reasons too. I’ve been speaking to a few girls about it and it’s a preferred look. A more professional look.
It’s a bit of an ordeal to submit your main man to though, isn’t it?
I had a previous operation a few years ago to help. They cut the sides and fold it and then sew it back, and that kind of worked for a bit, it made my sex life a lot better. But I still have a little waste, so I kind of want to get that sorted. It’s kind of freaky.
Are you nervous or worried?
I’m not, but the more people ask me if I’m nervous, the more I think I should be. I know it’s going to suck, I’ve had a similar operation before, but I know this is going to really suck for three weeks, but I’m man enough to deal with it.
Read the full story over at VICE.