It's only an Eaton ...

You still don't quite 'get' ukrm, do you.

Where is the clumsy fucker anyway - probably lapping up all the
sympathy he can, lucky git.

 

Apparently not. Not enough to check the thread title, at least.

Languishing in Barnet still, innhe.

According to the bulletin from Mrs WUN (She Wot Drives The Yaris), he
had the wrist op this morning and is now much more comfortable with a
Frankenstinian left wrist (just like mine, as it happens) and NHS
soss'n'Smash for tea. They're not going to let him out without a
proper cast on it though and it seems the Plaster Department aren't
back in till Tuesday.

We'll most likely go and see him tomorrow and do our best to smuggle
him out in a sheet before he starves to death.

 

fuxxake - s'only a wrist.

<boggle>

I remember when I did both my wrists at the same time - gaggle of
student nurses had a field day plastering them up simultaneously.

If the nurses are any good, he might object to being smuggled out.
Maybe some sugar free goodies in a stealth pack just in case eh?

Oh and say hi from me, if you would be so kind, best not shake his
hand though eh?

 

Give the clumsy **** a GWS from me please.

 

Surely will.

 

he can have grapes and like 'em.

I shall. His right mitt is fine, I understand.

 

Well, at least his sex life is secure

 

NHS?. Move to a less pikey area with private health care or at least fucking
BUPA, I say.


--
Beav

VN 750
Zed 1000
OMF# 19

 

"The limp wristed morris dancer" (c) Scraggy this morning before
setting off back.

 

In a freakish outbreak of Fate-tempting, he was waving his BUPA card
at me only a couple of days ago, as it happens.

 

I love the French sense of humour when it comes to bureaucracy and
paperwork.

 

Clumsy ****. GWS.

If it's any consolation at all, i'm currently sitting on a cushion
after having had a CCM splitting my backside for the last 400 miles.

Heh. Several times, said replacement pants were on proud display in
the hotel restaurant, much to the dismay of the waitresses.

Cheers,

Paul.

 

Bad news. GWS WUN, you were missed on the Tour. Although, no morris dancing
must have been a blessing in disguise...

 

Heh, I'm not bloody surprised. How many times did you need to fill up?

Don't forget. Medium size.

 

Ditto.

This'll ****-up the Morris dancing season a bit.

 

<MSOHP>

 

Your pre-depart limbering-up exercises were a portent of your impending
pummelling of the posterior.

 

On the autoroute a couple of miles from Calais docks. The muppet hadn't
put the strap under the pillion perch, so once he gathered speed it took
off and launched itself towards my front wheel, just behind. A couple of
people had to swerve to avoid lunching it courtesy of Cane's bag of
pants.

Fortunately we stopped to check and found the only thing holding his
panniers on had been the tailpack. Cue some emergency bungee-surgery to
avoid a repeat performance, a fruitless loop back to find the tailpack,
and a thrash down the N1 for afters.

 

When asked why I didn't bother stopping I explained that he already
had Highways Agency droids looking after him and as I didn't recognise
Nigel or the bike what the **** had it got to do with me? If nobody
had been helping then I might have stopped but that's only because we
were making good time and could have lost 30 minutes without missing
the ferry.

That's exactly what I said when we were discussing the accident on the
ferry.

 

Is that a bit like texting the bloke standing next to you in the pub?