Nice Young Man

This Rhino electric scooter is turning out to be a real babe magnet. Charging through the forecourt to the Costcutter yesterday, I heard the cry: 'Young man! Young man!!' Thinking they meant anyone but me, I paid little attention. But then I noticed a wizened old woman standing by one of those souped up P reg Renaults. You know, the ones with the baked bean tins for silencers.

She must have been 90 if she was a day. It turned out she couldn't get her filler cap off, and needed my help. I was happy to oblige as I've still got the one opposable thumb. 'Thank you young man,' she wittered. 'What a nice young man.' Made my day.

Got her number, of course. Well, beggars can't be choosers.

I'll Never Play The Piano Again

But then I never could in the first place, so I don't give a monkey's about that.

I see that plonker Eastcliff Richard has already told you that I've had a spot of bother with my digits. Had to have three of them off. I know they tell you smoking kills, but what they don't tell you is that you end up being carted off one piece at a time.

The staff at the QEQM were wonderful, though. I'm eternally grateful for the NHS, otherwise I might have ended up putting the things in a vice and hacksawing them off myself, like Sir Ranulph Fiennes.

There's been a small Brucie bonus to the whole ordeal, I'm dictating this to a rather attractive visiting nurse, who is seeing to my every comfort. They even left me a couple of fingers 'for the ladies', so all's not lost. Ah, I see that raised a smile. Nurse, the Viagra!