KEY POINTS:
I can recall it like it was yesterday, but I am pretty sure it was the day before.
There I was standing in his surgery, pants around my ankles with my testicles delicately placed in his cupped hand. He is making me cough, all the while giving my testicles a thorough examination.
Being an adult and someone who takes my health relatively seriously, I wouldn't have thought this to be at all strange - had he not been my dentist.
Suffice to say, I no longer use his professional services, but, to be honest, that had a lot more to do with him charging me more than $200 for a check-up and clean.
My new dentist assures me that, in this day and age, that kind of hands-on examination is not really necessary, and neither was the gloved prostate examination and coconut oil massage he had given me at the initial check-up two weeks earlier.
Just the thought of these types of examinations will make most men cringe, but as one gets older, they become increasingly necessary in order to stay on top of your health.
Other than the check-up from my dentist, I had never had a proper prostate check-up before. The closest I had come to it was when I was treated to a gloved rectal investigation courtesy of Auckland Customs officials.
Although the methodology is very similar, these trained Customs staff were clearly not capable of detecting any medical concerns deep in my backside. They are trained to look for contraband only.
This, of course, was back in the day before parallel importing when everyone was bringing all manner of products into the country through the back-door or via the Khyber Pass, so to speak.
Now there isn't a lot of point as most of the stuff is as cheap in New Zealand as it is anywhere in the world, but back then many people made a career out of being "mules".
I did a bit myself before I got involved in TV and column writing. Just minor stuff initially, as it takes a while to graduate to heavy-duty stuff like computer equipment, Javanese ornaments and shoes. I was strictly small time, the odd walkman, perfume and batteries, but my specialty was probably Lego.
This stuff was over-priced yet small enough for an average courier like me to handle, and you always had the option of breaking it down into smaller pieces if need be.
I knew people who could bring in an entire Lego pirate ship or even a space station in the one trip. These guys were living legends, and we small-timers couldn't wait to hear wondrous tales about the amazing commodities they had managed to smuggle in.
They were the pioneers, setting the benchmark and we were all able to learn new techniques from them. It seemed there was no end to what they could get in. If there was a demand for it, they would find a way of getting it up their backside and through Customs.
I recall legendary mule Barry Connors smuggling the entire Beatles collection on CD, only to be topped the next day by Steve Evans who brought it in on vinyl. Not to be out done, Barry returned to Thailand and came back with an ebony CD rack to put them in.
But the life of a "back-door courier" wasn't without its risks. I knew a guy who bit off more than he could chew by trying to bring in a 25-pack of Asian death stars for an Auckland martial arts store. He got a little cocky as only two weeks earlier he was able to bring in a set of nunchucks without any problems.
Mark Thomas once brought in a grand piano piece by piece and Frank Richards specialised in outdoor furniture. It was a crazy time, a time of huge opportunities, but all that came to a halt as soon as New Zealand adopted parallel importing.
People no longer had to spend vast amounts of money for overseas goods, and if they did they preferred if they came in the original packaging, not covered in Vaseline. It was the end of an era, but I still have the memories.
