BG,
I certainly did get involved with some dubious sauces. I'm still undecided whether to rub them all over myself or put them in this years LM chilli.
On the other hand I could reserve them for anyone having, yet another, look at my effin' tax returns. Those bowler hats look just a little bit too receptive to me. (great shot, by the way!)
On a slightly different note, and this is straight up, I found myself reporting to the A&E unit of the local hospital on Saturday night. Now I know these places usually figure in a lot of 'I swear it was true' stories, but this is the genuine article.
In the cubicle next to me there was a very (to his credit) chipper sounding young man. I'd seen him enter the cubicle, and everything looked pretty normal to me. Then I overheard the medics conversation with him.
It seems he'd had some sort of skin problem on one of his feet, and a friend (friend! good god!!) provided a tub of something known as Fiery Jack to rub on it. I believe it comes in a small steel tub. This is probably because metallurgists have yet to perfect a malleable enough material that will serve as a tube, but still resist the corrosive effects of the contents for more than a few minutes. Anyway, our bright young lad had rubbed it in as instructed, and then went on to "well, there was loads of it left mate, so I rubbed it everywhere, starting with the other leg first, and just kept going till it was all gone. Thought it would sort me out good and proper like!"
He then went on to drop his drawers and I'd like to say, that in time honoured fashion, a nurse screamed and an orderly feinted. In reality however, the medic said "God, Jeeesus man!!!", and I think I heard him stumble and knock over a beaker. At this time (I had a brief encounter with Fiery Jack, thanks to my old man, in my youth), I've both sets of knuckles buried in my mouth, not believing what has just gone, and wondering, with a little panic, what on earth could come next.
Another wiser head was called, and a discussion was started on just what kind of infection it was that was spreading over his legs and torso. The poor young wretch went on to mention he had a steel plate in one leg, thanks to a motorbike accident from a few years ago. I assume that this was the source of the effervescence that was exciting the registrars.
I wish there was an end to the story that was a little more conclusive, but the poor fellow was whisked off into another neon corridor, and I couldn't bring myself to ask for fear of dissolving into a heap.
Let that be a warning to you...
H
- Is that a line up so we can have a guess at who is the real Freddy 'Parrot Face' Davies?