And one that is truly paying for itself during these times of not being able to sit up properly due to this hoofing great sharkbitelike scar on the side of me.

I went to see the nurse to have the final staples removed today – there where 6 left – she took out 21 of them last week – when removed, they pinch like getting shot with a pellet gun from 50m – not too bad as punishments go, but you would still rather avoid it – 6 staples wouldn’t be much to complain about, however, one of the buggers had managed to get lost halfway into the scar (gruesome, nasty, I know) and the nurse, sweet old lady, had to literally dig around with these fecking steel pliers she had – it felt just the same either way whether she got it or not – so after initially getting by the first few attacks with a bit of wincing and gritted teeth, you get to the point where you want to indulge in a bit of exasperated cursing to help you through – problem was I didn’t want to offend the woman – so had to resort to cursing without actually swearing – which, in the spirit of Anchorman, can lead to some interesting combinations once you get past the usual “In the name of all that is Holy”:

Sweet Jesus’s playpen!
By the Bells of St.Christopher!
St Damien’s Trellis!
Cowpoke of Georgia!
Red Fire’s of Hadeese!
Gargantuan Yak!

(Please feel free to come up with your own exclamations in the comments section)

After she had finished I returned home all patched up with instruction to start trying to walk around a bit along with being signed off for another – yes another! – two weeks off work!

So tomorrow I’m going to try walking to the pub – and staying there – whisky is good for wounds – I saw Rambo use it – poured it on, set it on fire, winced a bit, sealed the wound and was off and running fighting the Russians seconds later – I may just drink it instead though....

“I’ve just bought Martine a small skin tight Spurs top – and she wanted it as well! What a lady!”

One of the main reasons we men get into relationships is to get our girlfriends to wear the shirt of our favoured football teams in the bedroom – a tricky task to pull off, it’s the perfect coming together of the two greatest things in life – sex and football.


I salute you Brother Barnes!

Contestants have to subdue all the badgers to escape - difficult as the rate of Badgers being emitted into the room increases as time goes by. Badgers will have nick names and particular styles of attack, haircuts and clothing to appeal to children and help with marketing (Ninja Badger! Cannibal Badger! Rambo Badger!)

I’m feeling a bit like a fraud to be honest – this amount of time off work for having your appendix removed – albeit one that was a little more difficult to find than the average bear – Still feels like a bit of a blag though – everyone remotely medically knowledgable tells me it’s major surgery, but I’m fine apart from that bloody great sharkbite looking 15 inch scar on the side of me….

I went to have the staples out today and the nurse dispensed with 21 of the little blighters (doesn’t half pinch) but she left 7 in there at the right angle part – she was horrified when I said I thought I’d be ok for work next week and when I go back to see her on Monday she’s going to sign me off for longer (cue imaginary backflip!) – she also asked if I’d been sticking to the script and actually resting up this last week seeing as it looks as though the scar isn’t healing as quickly as hoped - therefore indirectly accusing that I may not’ve been taking it easy enough.

“Excellent!”
“Ow! Fucker! My turn!”

“Ow! Fucker!”

….of all the memorable moments from 18 rated films we watched while underage, that scene was up there with the toxic waste guy who exploded on the windshield in Robocop.