After Carter the Musical Farter

There is life after Carter-only things were a little unexpected, to say the least!
I thought that, after the absolutely horrible 2018, that this year would be better-or, at least, benign. Nope-no such luck.

I started to have back pain-and anyone who suffers from back pain knows what a joy that isn't. I thought about the symptoms, and didn't even need to consult Professor Google to work out that I might have a kidney infection. The usual symptoms-which, of course, I ignored, since I'm really fed up with being a professional patient. But-kidneys are kidneys, backs are backs, and I went to the doc's a few days after I last entertained you with tales of Carter. Sure enough: nine hours in the hospital Ambulatory Care Center (if you can walk in, you will spend so much time there, you'll start to take root), some idiot tapping my vein twice (someone who was so "experienced" they couldn't find a vein if it was the size of the M1 motorway), and they put me on Cephalexin, the go to antibiotic for kidney infections.

I sat in the waiting area and watched people come and go, and although I explained my dilemma about having no immune system (from birth, I had to explain, so the numpties wouldn't panic), I sat. And sat. And sat. I was getting so wound up that I decided to take my mind off people coughing and sneezing, and there was no tea, coffee or water-and I couldn't get up and get any, because I was told that I would be moved to the end of the list. I thought of limericks.

I always forget the punchline of jokes-and there's nothing as irritating as someone telling a funny joke and forgetting the punchline just at the crucial moment. Limericks-well, I only know a few. My ex knew dozens-possibly hundreds. His school was one of those where the motto was "never leave your friends behind". Or maybe that was "never leave your friend's behind", I always suspected that. Eton and Harrow are the schools that are most suspicious in that area. Ex used to say that if you dropped a pencil, you just didn't bend over and pick it up. You kicked it against the wall -if you could-and then stood with your back against the wall to bend very quickly to get your pencil. It seems that bending over when you're at a boys' school is pretty lethal. He also used to say that, when the boys were (and are, nothing has changed. Allegedly) experimenting with limericks, they also were experimenting with each other. Hmmm....that explains a lot.

So I thought of a few that might amuse you, if you liked Carter. Obviously, I had nothing else to do except drink tons of water and take tablets. So, for your amusement:

A theological student from Kings
Once dreamt of heavenly things
But his only desire
Was a boy in the choir
With an ass like a jelly on springs

I like this one, so I must be weird:

There once was a hooker called Alice
Who used dynamite sticks for a phallus
They found her vagina
in South Carolina
And bits of her tits fell on Dallas

And one of my all time favorites:

There was a young girl from Madras
Who had an adorable ass
Not rounded and pink
As you probably think
It was grey, had long ears and ate grass

And my personal favorite, the first I heard when I was a limerick virgin:

There was a young fellow from Leeds
Who swallowed a packet of seeds
In less than an hour
His ass was aflower
And his balls were all covered in weeds

So there you are: how I spend my time when I have a kidney infection. Isn't that productive?

I just got a call from the Whittington, one of the worst hospitals in London (or anywhere): I only went there, very reluctantly, because the GP (who obviously hates me) insisted that I go there (never, ever again!). They want me to come back so they can check me over and ruin the veins in the other arm by trying to tap veins that don't exist. So I said the obvious thing: you know the words "hell, freezing and over"? That's when I'll be back.

Now they hate me, too. Boo hoo. I'm going to Starbucks. Infection be damned.