Last week I was making toast when I spotted what looked like the very distinctive imprint of my flatmate's bell-end plunged into my butter. He's circumcized so the shape was well defined and even had tiny indentations from what looked like forcyde spots, embossed along the shaft beside an unmistakable vein. There was no denying it, but I was too embarrassed to confront him about it, and for the last few days I've been carefully digging around the sides of the tub for untainted butter to spread on my toast, but unfortunately, this morning I absent-mindedly scooped out a bit from the middle and slapped it on my bread without thinking, and munched it down with wild abandon. I'm now sat here sipping listerine hoping I don't have hepatitis or something.