peeled foot by Simon Aulman
Yes sorry that you have now brought up your breakfast but that is My Left Foot about an hour ago, about ten days since I lay on Barton-on-Sea beach and laughed at people suggesting I might need suntan lotion. I presented myself to a nurse-friend recently (non-sexually) and asked him if my foot might need to be amputated - back then the various burst blisters were beginning to ooze pus. He said "maybe", but then they wouldn't know which bit of me to throw away afterwards - that foot down there is merely the worst-burnt bit of me. Fortunately it wasn't a nudist beach and even though I am 99 years old I still harbour hopes of fathering children.
Apologies (again) for these tired old jokes accompanying this tired old music. The pain during these last ten days has been very bad but the worst is over and thanks for yr concern (sunburn also makes people delusional) but there is no need to ring for an ambulance for me. Aside from chronic pancreatitis caused by too much boozing, I have so far lived a fairly pain-free life but am now starting on the end-stage, when joints ache and things go wrong and I start to feel sorry for myself and then I shall get all bitter and then I shall get regretful about all the things I didn't do when I was fit and now can never do.
My nurse-friend says that it might not all be over just yet - yes it's true that with my face looking like a trampled tomato my chances with women have fallen from zero to less-than. But the pain everywhere might subside to nothing and therefore I might get over my current self-pitying grumpiness. When I worked in shops and restaurants and other public-facing places I quickly noticed that the worst grumpy people weren't the young ones, as I'd expected, but the old ones. I'd been blessed with cheerful grandparents and miserable parents and therefore had got the idea that old people are happy and younger people aren't.
But no - the opposite is true. Young people are actually rather nice. It's us oldies who moan that the wrong milk is in our coffee and it's us who dole out the one-star reviews. That's because most of my peers (ie most of the people I mix with) are in pain and understandably are as miserable as fuck. Sorry for stereotyping myself. In this wonderful equal world it matters not a jot how old I am or my race or what nearly got burnt to a crisp between my legs or my disability ("this bloke can't make music to save his life").
