And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to- ME!!!!!!

I did such a good acting job in front of Sofia Grigoriadou (aka The Crippler of Barts and the London) yesterday that I swear I should have gone into acting. Either that, or killing arrogant, incompetent doctors. Bring back euthanasia, I say!!!!! (I do like my exclamation marks!!).

I'm told I am being unreasonable because I don't want to ever see the person who crippled me and destroyed my life nearly two years ago-and that I should "move on" and "develop trust", and "let go". I heard this from the registrars-and my response was very polite. I said: "ARE YOU CRAZY"?????  Of course,the very people who tell me to move on are the ones who have their balance, and their eyesight, and have never been in my position. I am not a hitter-but I could learn!!!!!

So I took a walk today, braved the idiots in Whitechapel- and turned the corner toward the internet cafe, and what did I see, but a man who decided that he had to go, and when he had to go, he had to go, and it didn't matter who was around. So he went!! He whipped it out and relieved himself against the side of a building. I was absolutely amazed-and what amazed me most of all was the fact that nobody paid any attention. I guess, this being Whitechapel (which smells heavily of pee and poo anyway), people are accustomed to this kind of icky behaviour. Icky!! There was a coffee place just next to him where he could have gone and done his business in private.

I have to say that I was very tempted to test my willie theory of the other day...but, I have learned not to be inquisitive (after my attack of December), and -let's face it - discretion is the better part of a fist in the face or being peed on!!

This did start me thinking about willies-when you are tied to a hospital bed and your veins are constantly breaking, and people are incessantly asking "and how are you today?" - I'm in the hospital, how on earth do you think I am??- naturally, you become very bored and start thinking about willies. Of course: doesn't everybody??

Now, I have to say, the basic truth is, if you've seen one, you've just about seen them all. Isn't that so?
There are very long ones, very short ones, skinny ones and fat ones, huge ones and-sadly-peanut-sized ones. There are wrinkly ones and smooth ones, ones that have been snipped and ones that haven't, ones that look healthy and ones that look diseased (I think we'll leave that one there, don't you?). There are ones with two balls, or perhaps one (or one and a half, poor chap), smooth, big balls, teeny ones, hairy ones and smooth ones, some wrinkly, some that rather resemble raisins. And there are ones of various colors. And that about covers everything, and I don't think I have left anything (or anyone) out.

Having said all this, I must admit that, unless a bloke has three balls and a willie the size of Brazil, and it's growing violets, there really isn't much more to discuss about willies. In fact, I think I am about willied out.

Now, truthfully, we women all know that blokes talk about us this way-only with certain anatomical differences, obviously!! I remember being in a pub with my friend a few months ago, and I overheard two guys talking about someone they both knew-in the biblical sense. One said to the other: "Yes, not very exciting, it was like tossing a sausage into the Blackwall Tunnel".

Obviously a couple of peanuts!