Firstly, an award. Girl Interrupted has introduced us to the fabulous, leisurely and sunlit world of jelly-biting. So, Girl Interrupted, Mr Condescending and myself present you with this shiny new award.
Mr Condescending gets all the credit for the artwork, I'm merely the messenger. Mr Condescending has demanded that I also award it to myself. If anyone hasn't yet noticed my audio-narrative above then press play and pump up the volume, it was recorded entirely for your pleasure.
Secondly, a short story for you. A mate of mine just got back from a few days walking in Scotland. He and his buddies were descending a tricky ridge when one of them fell and dislocated a shoulder. He was in unbearable pain and being an honourable English bloke with a delusional sense of selflessness he implored them to leave him behind.
"Go on with out me," he gasped, writhing about on the ground. "I'll be fine," he winced, "it's nothing, nothing at all."
Of course they weren't having that, so they managed to get him to a hospital. Initially he refused to get into the hospital bed. He didn't want to "make even more work" for the hospital staff. Eventually he complied and while he received treatment the other walkers rambled off to get a bite to eat.
When they returned he was sitting up in bed. The combination of morphine and gas coupled with his situation in a hospital room had played havoc with his mind - with hilarious results. He appeared to believe he had just given birth. His expression was one of ecstatic joy fused with widespread confusion.
"It's a boy!" he exclaimed. It wasn't a gag, for a few priceless moments he genuinely believed he had given birth to a baby boy.