Small Prick

Thanks to the miracle doctors at the QEQM, I was able to get out in the garden again yesterday.

While I was pulling up the weeds under the hedge at the front, I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my left thumb. On closer inspection, it seemed I had been jabbed by a syringe which had been dropped there, next to what looked like a cable tie. The syringe was marked 'insulin', so I can only assume some poor diabetic must have come over a bit queasy and had to inject themselves on the spot.

I do wish they'd take their paraphernalia home with them, though, and not just toss it in my garden.

Truss Me, You're A Doctor

An entertaining afternoon spent at the A&E department of the QEQM, getting my hernia drained.

The usual types there, including one poor man who appeared to be withdrawing from some kind of addiction. He was called into the treatment rooms several times by various medical types, and I swear blind he answered to the name of Mr Nelson Scum. How unfortunate. I overheard him saying that he'd just moved to the area, so perhaps he was one of these coked up, DFL millionaire celebrities we hear so much of these days.

By the way, it seems the QEQM now also caters for those suffering from gambling and sex addictions, with a one-armed bandit in reception, and a sign saying 'only two visitors per bed' beside the reception desk.

PS: I've just Googled Mr Nelson Scum, and found him mentioned on a site called 'Monsters of Cock'. With the addition of an apostrophe, and the knowledge that the aforementioned naval hero sits atop a column measuring 165 feet, I think we can safely assume that he was indeed a suffering celeb, possibly a star of one of those films I sometimes treat myself to on a Saturday night.

Writer's Cramp

Really, I have no idea why I agreed to contribute to Eastcliff Richard's new publication The Isle of Thanet Gazunder. I've spent so much time typing, my right arm has gone to sleep.

The celebrity twit asked me if I would be interested in writing a regular column about crime and security. The last time I had anything to do with police work, the hunt was still on for Jack the Ripper. Oh well, anything to oblige.

Alone Again (Naturally)

Lyrics penned by the great Gilbert and Sullivan cannot do justice to the emptiness I'm feeling at the moment. The son and heir has, as predicted, done his dash to Sussex, taking Charlene and the grandkids with him. Well, I've always known he was a mummy's boy, but quite what he sees in that Judas from the BTP, lord alone knows.

Now, where did I put that will?

Tan Me Hide When I'm Dead, Fred

Apologies to Rolf, but I'm getting rather excited about the prospect of the son and heir arriving from Oz with his family tomorrow. I suppose they'll want to do all the usual things like lie around and eat me out of house and home, then complain about how their beach back in WA is much better than Ramsgate's.

At that point I usually tease them about how it may not be as clean as theirs, but at least you're unlikely to be eaten by a Great White Shark while you're having a paddle. Then they'll probably all get the hump and bugger off to his mother's in Sussex.

Hmm. Maybe I'm not so much excited as trepidatious.

Terrorble

Always up with the latest news, I see there's been a spot of bother on the terror front.

In my day, whenever there was an IRA atrocity, we used to round up all the usual suspects. Policing has come on a long way since then, and nowadays all the unusual suspects get rounded up as well.

Quite what this 'liquid explosive' is, though, is a mystery to me. I did see a film starring Bruce Willis once which, in which a terrorist devised a bomb which consisted of two liquids, one green, the other blue. When they were mixed together, you got David Cameron. Boom boom!

Please Take Him

I see that silly old duffer Eastcliff Richard has gone and got himself kidnapped. I've lost sight of the number of times I've told him to be more aware of security at that old pile he calls a Cliff Top Mansion.

Well if he's hoping I'm going to call my Special Branch contacts he's got another think coming. It's probably just another publicity stunt anyway. If he's not back tomorrow I'll eat my helmet.

Hairy Moment

The grass has perked up after that drop of rain, and so have I.

That wind's a bit strong, though. I was just driving down to the shops, and opened the car window for a bit of the fresh stuff, and my beard blew up over my eyes. Nearly went into a bollard. That would have put the premiums up. Can you imagine the claim form? Doesn't bear thinking about.

Not Dead...

...just resting.