Gather round, my children. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then I'll begin.
I am a big lass so even if I had thought to take one, and was prepared to show my arse to the world, sadly I do not have the reach to comfortably photograph this part of my body.
So anyway, imagine you're me and you've had a lump/tag of skin under your right buttock, just where it meets the thigh, where the knicker elastic sits, for more years than you can remember. You've never seen it but believe it to be a mole. But occasionally you finger it and think hmm funny shape for a mole. It's shaped like a U if you see what I mean, where the top of the U meets the buttock crease. It's definitely inert though, you can give it a wee waggle and it feels just like spare skin, nothing inside.
Years pass. Years and years. It is a part of you that neither grows nor subsides. Until... last week. Getting dressed you inadvertently glance against it with your hand and it now feels... potent. Loaded. Like a zit. No, you think. Surely not. This passive tag of skin cannot have become... the biggest zit of your life? No. Surely not. No! Unless...
You boil a needle and STICK IT IN YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND. This is not easy to do when you are a big lass and your new best friend is underneath your bootylicious arse cheeks. You poke three or four punctures into El Zitto and then MILK THE MOFO. This involves holding a wad of kitchen roll in your hand and repeatedly squeezing the hell out of the buttockular extrusion. You still can't quite believe this long-benign nothing could have become a zit, so you are expecting the reveal on the kitchen roll to show nothing, or perhaps clear fluid.
OH COME ALL YE FAITHFUL. Tubes and spatters and coils of bloody pus. Many of them. Like metanium nappy cream swirled with ketchup. You make a noise of satisfaction like the Farmer from Shaun the Sheep, promise yourself you'll always remember this shining moment, and secretly store the kitchen roll in a match box in your knicker drawer to look on in times of stress (don't tell anyone this bit, will you? It's super gross.)
Literally overnight the bum lump (bump?) vanishes, closing over without even a scab, leaving you to wonder if it was all a crazy years-long dream.
The End.