Ugh. That smarts!
Well, I appear to be back. Appear being the operative word. Back from the arms of Morpheus, and bearing a brand new set of high-speed, Teflon-enriched knees.
Crumbs, that hurt. And still does. Indeed, my appearance here today only made possible by a massive and continuing dose of Morphine. Wow, if this is what drug abuse is all about, no wonder I haven’t been interested.
Still, I’m sitting up, and typing, if somewhat inaccurately. And reminded of Milligan, in Puckoon:
"He rolled his trousers kneewards revealing the like of two thin white hairy affairs of the leg variety. He eyed them with obvious dissatisfaction. After examining them he spoke out aloud. ‘Holy God! Wot are dese den? Eh?’ He looked around for an answer. ‘Wot are dey?’ he repeated angrily.
‘Legs.’
‘Legs? LEGS? Whose legs?’
‘Yours.’
‘Mine? And who are you?’
‘The Author.’
‘Author? Author? Did you write these legs?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I don’t like dem. I don’t like ‘em at all at all. I could ha’ writted better legs meself. Did you write your legs?’
‘No.’
‘Ahhh. Sooo! You got some one else to write your legs, some one who’s a good leg writer and den you write dis pair of crappy old legs fer me, well mister, it’s not good enough.’
‘I’ll try and develop them with the plot.’
And so I must now develop mine. Thanks all for the nice remarks, I look forward to taking my place once more amongst you. Just not too fast at first, eh?
Terry
…
