"Why don't you say you love me?"

"Why don't you let me piss up your ass?"

That conversation precipitated:

1. A slap of such epic proportions the shockwaves it caused may well have caused Hurricane Katrina.

2. A long-term fascination over the possibility of A) finding someone naïve/stupid/slutty/sick enough to accept urine up the rectum, and B) the logistics of actually evacuating the member in the heat of passion.

If, after reading that ingenious line of thought you're still wondering why something so sick should be attempted, then the answer is obvious: it's a challenge. Evolution in a nutshell is a species trying to overcome the challenges in front of it, and if you follow the logic, I'm a fucking visionary—Homo erectus looking back at the mere apes around him. The moon was a distant dream until Neil Armstrong became the first man to land on such a heavenly body (the second being Brad Pitt touching down on Angelina Jolie), and in such a manner, I'm carving out the future for all men, going truly where no man has gone before.

I once drank five pints of water before pressing the right buttons and attempting doggy.Before becoming obsessed with this act I conducted painstaking research to ensure that this endeavour would be the first of its kind and found precisely nothing to show that I wasn't. I trawled porn sites and watched the sort of videos the sweaty weirdo in the corner of every math class is watching on his iPod (if you don't know who I'm talking about that's because you're that weirdo).

Before now I always considered myself open to a lot of things—hell, if it made me ejaculate I'd use a potato peeler on my cock—but if you Google "piss up arse" you'll see things that would make a Catholic priest shudder.

Alas, I digress from the issue. With it being confirmed that I would be the first pioneer of this new line in fetishism I now needed to actually find a willing participant. As the opening suggests, that particular lady friend was never keen on the idea…not that I didn't try to do it on the sly. I once drank five pints of water before pressing the right buttons and attempting doggy (with the intention of a short bus ride to brown town), however, the water retention made me feel like a capsized oil tanker. And like an oil tanker, I released the contents of my stomach—and with the usual route obstructed by a hard-on that could sink the Titanic, it rushed up the auxiliary exit and my lady friend was treated to an unexpected shower of the none golden variety.

That event, my friends, led to yet another breakup but has allowed me to indulge in my quest to the greatest of my ability. To this end, every woman I now see is no longer judged on the age old "out of ten" but whether she'd answer in the affirmative to the sacred interrogative: "piss up your ass?" Until I meet this fabled woman with a mind as open as her legs (or I succeed with surprising someone with a urine enema) then there's always the backup plan.

It's my theory that as well as every math class having "that guy" with sick porn on his iPod, every high school has their own "weird girl"—you know, the one who gives out free blowjobs because it's easier than flossing. The weird girl of my high school was, as well as being very fastidious when it came to dental care, really into guys pissing over her feet (her station in the boy's toilets served her well). Of course, she was in a car crash and is now crippled (if you laughed, you're going to Lucifer's all-you-can-eat buffet), but then again, I'd only have to topple her over and gently whisper those three special words: "piss up your ass?" and the world record would be set. I would become the king of sick fetishes. One small piss for man, one giant kick in the teeth for evolution. What you should be asking yourselves though, is when you see your girlfriend, are you going to say those special words to her?