Hi there,
As most of you would now know, my twitter account was “hacked” yesterday.
Claiming it was hacked seemed the only appropriate course of action.
I mean, just because the old guy in that picture had the same body shape, facial stubble and nipple arrangement as me, it doesn’t mean it was me. Neither does the fact that I was quickly able to log in and change my password.
Let’s be honest. What hacker takes over your account and changes the password so you can’t get back in? Only inconsiderate ones. Lucky for me, this hacker was quite the gentleman.
Ah stuff it. I cocked up. It was really me.
It’s a bit embarrassing admitting that I took a photo of my erect penis and sent it to the twittersphere by mistake, rather than to Shane Warne.
[pullquote]<Redacted Picture>
“What are you thinking?….XXX”[/pullquote]
Shane and I are in a bit of a selfie contest. This was going to be my pièce de résistance. My crowning moment. The one picture that Shane would never be able to trump.
What happened was I went to hit the SMS button, but my fat thumb hit the bloody Tweet button instead.
These damn iPhones.
It was such a waste really. Do you know how long it took me to get prepared for that selfie? It’s not just the undressing, but to produce something as glorious as that at my age takes a lot of work and plenty of little blue pills.
Also, the shaving thing is something I won’t be doing again in a hurry. All that itchy regrowth. I haven’t felt an urge to scratch something this bad since the time I caught crabs in India back in the early 80’s.
I’ve left a message for Kevin Pietersen. Apparently, he is good at managing the fallout from mobile phone incidents.
So in closing, if you see me in the street, please come shake my hand and say hello. I have washed them since I took that photo.
If you are a divorced mum and liked what you saw, then please send me a tweet to @BeefyBotham.
I’ll invite you around for one of my famous BBQ’s where we can enjoy a sausage.
*wink*
Cheers
Ian Botham
