Ligament Wino
And so it was Walt’s turn. I’d done my Tom Jones, and Gord was yet to do Nelly the Elephant. He chose to breakdance, and he needed help. So I volunteered to spin him on the pub floor. I twisted out of the way like a startled Toreador and my foot stayed anchored to ground, contorting my leg and it’s twiney innards. Snap, crackle and flmp! I joined Walt on the floor. Cue laughter at the drunken stocky wino. I milked the crowd. Then I tried to get up, and produced a grimmace that would shame Cherie Blair.
After Gord had packed his trunk and said goodbye to the circus I hobbled to the new improved toilet to check this aching appendage. As I bent over to show Kiki (steady now) someone entered the toilets, opening the door into my head. Clutz. “Happy bank holiday here’s a bandage for your poorly knee and ankle, in fact you better take two”. If I was a professional footballer I would be injured for the European Championships, not that would be a problem for a Briton of any hue I suppose.
