Marmite

I'd been going steady with this girl for two months. This night, she’d been ‘round, we’d kissed on the sofa, then she popped up to the toilet.

        I seized the moment. I went into the kitchen, grabbed the jar, and smeared it on, sitting there, legs apart, waiting.

        She came in, saw the black sticky thing standing at attention: ‘oh, my! Samuel, what are you doing?’

        ‘What? But I thought you liked Marmite-'

        ‘I do,’ she said, ‘but you know I’m Catholic.’