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IN THE LATEST instalment of WWN’s Voices series, we give a platform to someone we really shouldn’t. Today is the turn of Martin Bradley, whose quality of life has improved beyond recognition after he made a life-changing discovery.

For a time I suffered in silence. Then over the years, I suffered more loudly. I couldn’t help myself complaining about the injustice visited upon my arsehole by the Toilet Roll Industrial Complex (TRIC). They don’t teach you that in school, do they? That our holes are governed by an unelected group of toilet roll CEOs who care not for your fidelity to a pain-free post-poo arsehole.

Single, double, triple, fuck it, quintuple ply toilet roll – whatever lie they’re selling you don’t believe it, that dry irritable strip of wafer thin paper is only supposed to cause you more discomfort, somehow making your itchy arse desire more of the very thing that is causing this interminable irritation. So you grab more toilet roll and you wipe, only now it’s not a wipe, it’s a sort of a rub, then the rub turns into a scratch and the TRIC have got you right where they want you.

It used to be I’d only really suffer after a rake of pints and a curry, but that toilet roll gradually wore away at my comfortable hole, transforming into a dry and arid landscape resembling the rough surface of Mars.

But one day when a coworker caught me scratching my hole for 15 minutes without interruption and he pulled me to one side to share a secret the TRIC has been trying to suppress for years.

Ushering me into a sound proof room already scanned for bugging equipment, he told me of the liberation and joy of giving your hole a wipe with a baby wipe.

At first I dismissed me as a deviant, but he explained that although they’re called baby wipes, it’s not illegal for adults to use. You can’t be arrested for it. The cops can’t touch you.

That’s when I truly realised how powerful and nefarious the TRIC were. They had convinced my sheep mind that toilet roll was the only option, but now I live every day in defiance of their evil ways.

Sometimes I eat extra spicy curries just as a ‘fuck you’ to those CEOs. I even keep baby wipes in the fridge so they’re extra cool when they come into contact with what I can now proudly saw if my burden free hole. My anus is no longer an irritated mess which the TRIC own.

I urge you all, break free of the shackles you and your arsehole have been placed in by the TRIC. Do not buy their propaganda that baby wipes are bad for the environment, after all, what’s more important; the planet or your ability to sit down on the couch without it feeling like your arse is being stabbed by 4,000 tiny needles? I rest my case.

Now, set your arsehole free.