X-rated Bob wrote:
What I did was I sat down with that knee and had a little chat. Along the lines of "You've been a bad knee. Now if you don't start being a good knee then you stay behind when I go on holiday and you won't get to see Martin Simpson and Loudon Wainwright."
Just to hedge my bets I also went for a course of physiotherapy and swore a vow that I would not wear crocs other than as slippers at home.
This substantial sacrifice and financial outlay, coupled with the little chat that I had with the knee seems to have done the trick and my right knee will take it's place alongside the left when I fly to the UK on June 15th.
Oh treachery! Treachery most foul!
I was deceived, duped and led astray. The knee was only pretending to be good. In fact it is a duplicitous, devilish,
evil knee that has chosen to revert to it's painful ways as our holiday departure looms ever closer.
It was treated most sorely and with no let up by the physio - and believe you, knee, that hurt me at least as much as it hurt you, you scoundrel.
And indignity of indignities! I had to shave my knee and much of the surrounding area. This was because the physio went to the next level of warfare against knees - strapping. The strapping is to be removed this afternoon and my screams shall be heard over the mass of vuvuzelas that South Africans will be using to mutually impose deafness on one another. (but if they're all deaf or going deaf then will anybody hear my.... never mind). This will be followed by a great pummeling, a severe stretching, more strapping and then, pain of pains, a bill to be paid.
Knee, thou shalt go on holiday! Even if it must be at knife point.
