"Maybe the sperm cells will regenerate after a few months," Pat said hopefully.
"I wouldn't put any down payments on a baby carriage if I were you," I said, as we moved towards the workrooms.
It was the third morning after the fight on the docks. Pat had finished injecting an enormous dose of concentrated human serum into my left buttock and was giggling at my choice selection of swear words when the phone rang. I answered struggling with my pants at the same time.
"Cope here," it said. "Is that you, John?"
"Yes Harry, how are you?"
"I'm afraid I've caught the flu, laddie." He was obviously trying to sound unconcerned. "I've got a fever and all the aches and pains that go with the ruddy stuff. I wanted to tell the Old Man I shan't be working for a day or two."
"Damn it, that's a shame," I said. "Look Harry, why don't you come up here and let us give you some serum, it might forestall the complications."
"Might as well, I suppose, but isn't it too late, really?"
"Too late for the flu, of course, but maybe not too late for the orchitis."