Oh, man. I am in so much pain at the minute. Yesterday, I went arse over tit down the stairs, after Daddykins left an “Absurdly big Joke Book” on there, and have ended up spraining my ankle pretty badly. So, I’m now sat downstairs, in my boxer shorts, in agony.

The irony is, the bloody joke book isn’t even that good. 703 pages of jokes such as this one…

In the middle of the night, the woman nudged her husband saying “Jack, I think I heard a noise downstairs. Are you awake?”
“No,” he replied.

I’m sure you’ll agree that’s a humdinger of a joke. A-hahaha. Oh, my, the tears are streaming down my face with laughter.

No, seriously, that’s the joke. Exactly as it’s printed.

Er, anyway. I’ve been through this sprained ankle shit before. I sprained the very same ankle back in 1997 (or the back end of 1996, not that it matters) when I tried to take a shortcut over the hedge in the front garden, but ended up getting my foot stuck in the top of it, before eventually crashing down to the floor on top of my ankle. Oooo-eee.

THe pain is pretty much the same, though the last time I did it, I went to A+E. All they did was x-ray it, say nothing’s broken, and send me on my way, advising me to keep topped up on painkillers. Now, I could do the same again, but obviously, it’d be pretty pointless. Last time, I didn’t bother with the recommended painkillers, and this time I won’t either. I’m a MAN. None of those little cissy round things for ME! Actually, I just don’t like taking tablets, and would rather have the searing pain.

It means that the last two days have been absolutely pointless. I’ve not been able to do a thing. I’m actually trying to put weight on it now, but it makes me just look like Gregory House. I even have my granddad’s old walking stick.

Seeing as I’m confined to the sofa, I might as well update this through the day. Or something.

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