Balls Boutique

Daniel Maier discovers if an intimate men’s range is goolie scrumptious – or just cobblers.

Sometimes that empty seat is empty for a reason. A restricted view, a wobbly leg. Likewise, sometimes a gap in the market is there not because no-one thought to fill it but, Below The Belt male genital grooming specialists, because fewer men than you think are longing to apply unguent to their testicles.

There are three products in the Below The Belt range. I’d’ve liked to see them pitched on Dragon’s Den, principally in order to witness Touker Suleyman springing from his seat to test the Instant Clean Balls spray on his sausage and roasties in full view of a dry-heaving Deborah Meaden, but never mind.

To the range. The Fresh and Dry Balls gel is smoothed onto the walnuts post-shower, and quickly dries to a talcy finish. The scent is quite locker-room (I tried the ‘Active’, though there are four varieties including fragrance-free), which I know neither because it’s especially powerful nor because I have feline spinal flexibility, but because, gentle reader, I also tested it on my arm. It’s a not unpleasant, silky sensation, though personally the benefits are outweighed by the basic requirement to wreathe one’s pods in gel. The mobility, surface texture and hirsute nature of the typical nutsack renders the process of creaming them up frankly unenjoyable, compared to, say, the application of moisturiser to smooth, taut, hairless facial skin. Drying time is also a consideration. After showering, I want to get dressed as soon as possible, not stand imperiously like The Colossus Of Rhodes, counting the seconds ’til my orchestra stalls are sufficiently touch-dry for me to step into a fresh pair of Calvins.

A better bet, perhaps, is the groin-protecting Sports Lubricant. Despite the fact the words ‘groin’ and ‘lubricant’ are bad enough on their own and that finding them in the same clause is the verbal equivalent of Piers Morgan interviewing Nigel Farage, the stuff itself is relatively inoffensive – a kind of lighter Vaseline than doesn’t outstay its welcome and may be of interest to those who cycle or run more frequently than I don’t.

Finally and most questionably, the aforementioned Instant Clean Balls. This spray, essentially a ‘whore’s bath’ for the on-the-go modern man, is designed for use on the peach stones when a shower isn’t practicable. The appropriate circumstances, though, are tricky to pin down. To apply Instant Clean Balls is to foresee the call for presentable knackers while foregoing the option of thorough ablution. Other than in anticipation of a festival bunk-up, a persuasive case is difficult to make. The bottle suggests it might be used ‘as a quick refresher before a night out, at festivals or at bed time.’ Presumably the implication is that the bed in question is shared, otherwise why not stew in your own genital feculence ’til your morning shower, as God intended? The spray (I tested ‘Cool’. On my other arm.) goes on as sharply alcoholic before drying down to something vaguely minty but chemical. One might replicate the outcome by dunking the baby birds in a brew of Smirnoff and antibac gel.

Below The Belt’s products have novelty, but while the powdery finish of the gel is a nice touch, the range isn’t really sufficiently effective, luxurious or nad-specific to convince. If you’re going to solve a problem the consumer didn’t know they had, you need to do so a little more persuasively than this. These grointrepreneurs may dream of the day when the BB in BB Cream stands for ballbag, but if they think it’s coming anytime soon, they’re nuts.

Below The Belt range, from £5.95 at Boots.


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