The Long and the Short of It - The Mighty Penis

Old Mate George rocked up out of nowhere—unannounced, uninvited, and clearly tracking me like a horny bloodhound with GPS. I was at the Sandbar in Scarborough, still glistening from the hot WA sun and the stress-sweat of nearly committing to something physical—namely, a swim—in my new skin-coloured birthday mankini. (Think g-string, but with enough confidence to warrant its own postcode.) The only thing that stopped me was the searing sand and a group of teenagers screaming when my towel staged a brief but memorable protest against gravity. Defeated, I retreated to the beachside verandah to reclaim some dignity via cold beer therapy. Unfortunately, the “beer” turned out to be a guava-flavoured experiment - basically tropical regret in a glass. I drank it anyway. I’m not proud, but waste not, want not.

“Maaate” was the usual greeting from the big man resplendent in his muscle T-shirt basically a mood-tube as it stretched upward revealing his hairy belly, not to mention his waaay to tight and revealing footie shorts, exhibiting whatever a male version of the camel toe is called. Maybe meat and two veg?

“I believe you are very interested in penises” he asked, and I coughed on the dregs of the beer, if you could actually call it beer. “I’m what…” I spluttered intelligently. “Penises, cocks, pricks, schlongs man-bits, the blue-veined-flute” he rattled off unnecessarily. “The gang have reported back that you have been discussing the male thingy with them” he explained scientifically, and the penny dropped. “Oh, mate it’s a blog I am writing” I explained “A blog looking at…. well not literally looking at the mighty penis. But researching the average size etc by nationality worldwide”. Yes, I had in fact been canvassing the issue with our mutual mates to get their input so to speak. “Why do you ask?” I foolishly queried. “Cause I have had an idea for years mate. An idea that could make us both a great deal of dosh” he promised, and my heart sank. “Transplant” he announced grandly, pausing for effect like he was pitching to Shark Tank. I braced myself for the incoming stupidity. “Hear me out”, he said, eyes glinting. "Combine my business genius with your penis blogging empire and we'll be richer than Elon Musks divorce lawyer. Then he explained his latest wildest dream to me and to distract myself I cruelly ordered a pint of guava beer for him and a stout for me because I needed fortifying.

“Maaate it involves animal to human transplantation” he started grimacing at the first taste of his beer obviously surprised at the sourness of someone’s own brilliantly bad idea to combine guava with hops. “So, you know that already the scientists can use say pig heart valves etc to transplant into humans” he asked. I nodded certainly having seen or heard about that interspecies organ transplant in the past. “So, they are reaching a stage where the animal organ is not being rejected by the human body” he explained, and the thought crossed my mind that George owned possibly the most rejected organ by the ladies … like ever.

“What’s your idea mate?” I asked eager to move things along as a bevy of beautiful young woman in impossibly tiny bikinis gaggled toward the famous sand and surf of Scarborough Beach. “Baby elephant trunks mate” he exclaimed proudly. “A few months back a baby elephant at Perth Zoo died” George said. “It got me thinking. Now imagine if we can overcome the inter species issues of compatibility. Imagine if, as in that sad case, we could transplant the wee bloke’s trunk to enhance or replace a human penis!” he announced. Of course, instantly the image of a man with a grey wrinkly 3-foot-long baby pachyderms’ trunk where his penis should be immediately scarred my imagination for ever. “Wait on wait on” George insisted as I stood to leave. “I have my people working on it” he insisted. (George has no people). If its scientifically possible, imagine” he pleaded. “Not only would you be a great lover with it, but you could pick up the kids lego from the floor … and scratch your own back in the shower” he offered, and gob smacked I stared at him in absolute disbelief at his distance from reality.

Look I’m taking this no further; I’m not wasting your precious Langtree blog reading time anymore with George’s idiocy, although rest assured that it is a very true story, trust me I’m a Kiwi. So anyway, I decamped the scene as a copper would say.

But as I left George seated precariously on the three-legged stool at the pub, I started to think more about the male penis and headed back to my digs to engage once more with Ms Google and her mates Meta AI and Gemini.

So, how does the local male triple-use appendage—that’s right, the one capable of bonking, peeing, and writing your name in the snow like a cursive fountain pen—stack up against the rest of the world? Well, ladies (and the appropriately curious gents), start saving for a ticket to Ecuador, because apparently that’s where the big guns are stationed. Now, it’s not a quick or cheap pilgrimage … roughly 54 hours, three stopovers, and $3,393 later (return flight optional, depending on how impressed you are). But according to Worldwidedata.com Ecuadorian men top the global charts with an average 17.61 cm (that’s 6.93 inches for those still traumatised by the metric system). And with an average height of just 1.67 metres, that means their “national asset” makes up a heroic 10.54% of their total body length. 

Now as to us ANZACs, just like the cricket, the Aussie bloke has once again pipped the Kiwis at the post (sadly). With an average of 14.46cms the Ozzie's batting a little higher than his Kiwi cuzzie's at 13.99cm. Not a huge difference, but enough for a smug "Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie!" in the changerooms. Of course, we must take environmental factors into account—New Zealand’s colder climate can make any measurement a little... shy. If those surveys were done outdoors, half the nation’s results probably went into hibernation. And for the record, I was not included in the study. I’m confident my participation would’ve pushed New Zealand up the leader-board, maybe even to Ecuadorian levels, just like we do in rugby. Or so I like to tell myself.

Anyhoo although it’s a bit self-indulgent I could not resist including the entire worldwide penis length scorecard into the blog as I search my DNA profile for those Ecuadorean ancestors I surely have somewhere back in time.

In conclusion of course, as we all know or should know, that despite a lifetime of masculine insecurity as to whether the show’er or grower appendage that hangs between our legs, (with its mates the twins), is big enough for the job, the other half of the equation, the beautiful woman of our world do not actually give a damn. After all it’s not the size of the wand that matters, it’s the learned skills of the magician who is waving the wand that counts.

On that note I bid thee “Hasta luego" (“see you later” in my native Ecuadorian).

Regards Magnum
Owner/Operator of “Thors Hammer”
For: Langtrees.com 

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Penis sizes by origin