Why all the sexy ladies want epidemiologists, by Professor Neil Ferguson
by Professor Neil Ferguson, faculty of medicine, Imperial College, London
YES, I broke lockdown. But if you had any idea just how much triple-A pussy you can get mathematically modelling the spread of disease, you’d understand.
I deeply regret that I ignored the rules to see one of my many, many women. But since I entered infectious diseases in 2000 two weeks is the longest I’ve gone without a shag. Hell, two days is a drought.
The day I modelled the spread of the foot-and-mouth outbreak, I got home and there was a girl I’d never seen before naked in my bed. ‘How did you get in?’ I spluttered. ‘You’re the prediction expert,’ she said, throwing off the duvet. ‘You tell me.’
And from that moment on I’ve been going at it like a new strain of influenza in a weakened immune system. A woman for breakfast, another for lunch, two overnight. That’s weekdays. At weekends, well, I go kind of crazy.
It’s not my fault. The minute the chicks hear you’re an epidemiologist their panties hit the floor. There’s just something about studying virus transmission in large populations that demolishes every inhibition.
Jennifer Lawrence, Penelope Cruz, Nicki Minaj – who was so obsessed with my work on the Zika virus that we had to break up, I was physically exhausted – they’ve all stripped off my lab coat at one time or another.
So giving some married honey a booty call was of no more consequence to me than ordering a pizza. Sure, it was the best she’ll ever have, but to me? Wednesday.
It’s probably for the best. I was on course to win a Nobel prize, and honestly? Not sure the old dick could take it.