Tuesday, January 23, 2007

The King of Thong’s Medication

Ever since I came a cropper beneath nineteen stones of a falling traffic warden that night at the Turntable Taffy's Disco in Llandudno, the Chipster has been taking some pretty strong medication to keep the pain at bay. I’ve known injuries like this to end some dancer’s careers but no matter how much you say you won’t be egged into doing something stupid, the plummeting punter is still one of great hazards of the professional stripping circuit.

Consider the situation: a room full of excitable ladies, heavily influenced in their behaviour by all the neat paraffin they’ve been necking all evening. Throw in The Chipster, oiled to his best sheen and wearing only a black leather thong. Well, you can’t stop the ladies asking you to pick them up and hold them to be lifted above your head, can you? And you know the Big DC: I can’t let a lady down, can I? Heart as big as… Well, enough of that.

The tablets I take are big enough for horses. Seriously. The surgeon who operated and fixed my back told me that they use the same medication to dope race horses and it’s that level of professionalism which makes me feel so bloody of the NHS. I might be doped up to my bloodshot eyes but I know a good thing when I see one. And the NHS is most definitely a good thing despite all of Tony Blair's tinkering.

Just the other day, we were doing some step aerobics when Gabby went over on her ankle and I had to take her to A&E. They had her bandaged up in no time. Very sweet about it to and I knew the nurse from some of the local Lib Dems meetings. But do you want to know what was really great? While I was there I came up with a brand new routine I hope to try out this week. You have to picture the darkened nightclub, packed with punters. I’ll come on stage, single spot picking me out dressed in a white coat and carrying a clip board. I come centre stage and say to the audience ‘Pass me the tongues, matron!’ Then I pause. Look to audience and add: ‘Did somebody mention thong?’ Then I whip out my old fella. Bloody instant classic act. And all down to the NHS.

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