Being for the benefit of Mr Crab

Less than one minute read time.

Have you ever wondered what Mr Crab & Co look like? I don't mean Googling for images of cancer, because, ew, but have you ever tried to put a face to him?

I have. Mind you, it's pretty easy for me, because of where my own personal Mr Crab lives - in my tummy, which is so much easier to explain than 'peritoneum'. He looks like this:

 

 

Those are actually the Snapping Turks from Yellow Submarine, which is a v good film, although not if you don't like the Beatles (or if you like them Very Earnestly). I was a bit wary of Googling 'snapping Turk', which sounds like a Victorian sex aid, and, for all I know, is, but I was traumatised yesterday by an unwise Google for 'perineum' and maybe that's made me over-cautious.

I have been further traumatised today by Googling for coffee enemas. They sell the beans on Amazon, you guys!

So, in case you ever wondered what I do all day, at the moment the answer is mostly: I'm in bed with the gentlemen pictured above, or one of them.

I've had better.

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