Thursday, September 11

My Left Foot

(Well, actually my right foot, but that's not a film, is it?)

Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to tell you a tale of justice, pain and sadness.

Sat in Portugal, in our room, after a hazy afternoon of drinking beer and larking in the pool, myself and the missus decided to catch up on events back home. It was six o'clock, so on went the news.

And by God, look what happens while I'm away! Most of the UK is underwater, Wales has floating sheep, Morpeth has floating VW Passats and York has floating caravans (nearly). "Hah!" I laughed, scratching my burnt, manly chest, "Check that out! They've got that and we've got burning sunshine!"

Next up was the paralympics. In a sober light, I can see these brave people facing up to their disabilities with a stiff upper lip, more than I could manage in a similar situation. But with 4 pints of Si-Si-Si-San Miguel in me, watching a one legged man on a bike was literally hilarious. "Hah!" I laughed, sizing up my two healthy legs and feet, "Check that out! He's got one and I've got two!"

Sadly, God heard this. He was pretty pissed off.

"Right, I'm going in the shower." I said. The wife replied that she would like to go in the bath first, so she had time to straighten her luxurious hair afterwards, whilst I was showering my sunburnt pair of working legs.

I agreed. Off she went. I decided to take in some fresh air, and try and catch some of the sounds of the nearby bullfight. Unfortunately, God had decided to sprinkle the balcony tiles with rain. It being dark, I didn't see this, until I was laid arse first in it. My left foot skidded out in front of me, and my right leg collapsed under the weight of my body and 4 pints of Si-Si-Si-San Miguel. My foot landed upside down on the door stop, and my arse and body landed on top of my foot.

It hurt. A lot.

After shouting for assistance, only to be met with the cry "What the fuck have you broken now?" I managed to gingerly pick myself up. I thought I'd broken my foot. I may still have. Next morning, I awoke with a huge black go-faster stripe of a bruise, and various twists and sprains. I still ache now.

I'm facing up to my disability with a stiff upper lip, but doubt I could lap a velodrome in under 20 seconds, like the one legged chap did.

So, as John Lennon might have said:
Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on your arse


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