Things my father failed to tell me 2

It was another of those things that your father doesn't tell you about, like the fact that you should always brush your teeth while in the nude, or that shaving accidents last three days and always prompt the question, "Have you been in a fight?" followed by dark, " 'bout what I'd expect of you", looks and a slight sneer (something that you won't be able to do for three days without causing a haemorrhagic Niagara), a sneer with overtones of "and I'll bet you lost too".
So, I had finished my evening repast of smoky aubergine with lime sauce (Madhur Jaffrey's Far Eastern Cookery) and had done the washing up. I should add that the dish is Vietnamese so that the lime sauce is a mixture of fish sauce, lime juice, chilli and garlic. I then wiped down the surfaces and retired to the chaise to rest my wearied bones and catch up on the world's happenings (apparently George Clooney has left ER). Readers of a gentle disposition should probably read no further but since I've already said "nude" they may not be anyway. Later I went to the toilet, soon afterwards in the bathroom, my, specifically male, anatomy recorded the degree of pain normally associated with the Spanish Inquisition, I would say convulsed with pain but that's hardly right, and anyway, conjures up the sort of vision associated with slugs and salt.
I investigated. A chilli seed that had previously clung tenaciously and unseen to the heel of my hand had base-jumped into my underpants as I hoisted them, bringing it into close, if not to say lascivious , contact with my nether regions. Well dear reader, I ejected said seed and then spent a cooling few minutes with a bowl of cold water, before spending the remainder of the evening "demi au naturel" as the French rarely say, the evening breezes bringing cool caresses of relief to my tortured (now I'm loath to say todger here as it seems out of keeping but the alliteration works well, I'll think)... tortured ... fevered brow.
Moral: always check your underpants for chillies.