Today I awoke in my adopted country of Italy to discover the bizarre news that masturbating in public here is officially legal. Yes. legal. Who knew?
Apparently, Italy's Supreme Court has just upheld the appeal of a 69 year old (69. But of course...) known only as Pietro L - who revealed his Italian salami to a group of students in Catania, Sicily, and duly proceeded to choke the Pope.
Upon reading about this landmark ruling, I was struck by the age-old philosophical question, "Will I still be greasing my pipe at pensionable age?"
It's a disturbing yet strangely life-affirming thought.
Even more alarming however, is the possibility that having heard this news, a certain 79 year old former politician may now be considering a comeback, given his homeland's laissez-faire attitude to cuffing the carrot. Silvio Berlusconi may be a fossil, but he must surely be relishing the idea of getting back on the circuit and playing the skin flute in front of an adoring audience of swooning showgirls. Now that legal repercussions are out the window, The Don of Bunga Bunga is surely already brandishing his pleasure pump in preparation for a grandiose public celebration of wrist aerobics.
Before today, I'd always considered milking the lizard as something of a private act. Like most men, I'm a big fan of pounding off, but the notion of wrestling the dragon in public puzzles me.
But I wonder if the freedom given to spangling the serpent extends to actually blowing one's wad? There are laws here against urinating in public, but not, it now appears, against spilling seed. This surprises me, not least because of endemic problems with public waste. The thought of now seeing the usual street litter pockmarked with groin gravy seems a particularly gruesome one.
That said, this ruling does open up a plethora of opportunities. I can, for instance, now legally organise a serious protest against the lack of public services in Palermo by organising a mass public jerk-off. An odd prospect perhaps, but what better way to draw media attention to the need for change?
It would be truly Ghandi-esque, as thousands of Palermitans - both men and women - drop their pants to fight social injustice with love not hate.
"Goo not Guns", that's our motto.
I already have well-documented issues with the bus service here. I can now picture the scene as me and my fellow protesters fight the good fight, men with trouser snakes aloft, ladies frantically polishing the pearl, as we chant the slogan "We can come, why can't buses?"
Perhaps our hero Pietro L. could also join us and orchestrate the countdown to a communal explosion of muscle milk and female face paint.
Then, having climaxed as one, we can - unlike Palermo's buses - at least claim to come on time.