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| An engraving of the Antiquarian, Aunty Gary, facing the chirurgeon's knife |
Over the past year two of our number have been laid low by the curse of 'the stone'. Indeed, as I write, a poor dear fellow Antiquarian (the precipitous Thadeus Basil Snapper no less!) lies in an hospital in Devon, legs astride, held by rough fellows, awaiting the chirurgeon's knife. I have written the following verse to comfort him:
Through skeletal bone
You tower,
Six feet, seven inches
- and a half! - high.
But now, with stone,
You face intrusion (through
Bishop's eye)...
Swig thy brandy Sir,
And bite thy belt -
Our pity Sir
Is heart felt!
Egad, there is only so much comfort afforded by consumption of half a bottle of brandy! With knees clenched in solidarity, we Members of The Ragged Society of Antiquarian Ramblers send you a collective 'Huzzah!'...
HUZZAH!
What what! I faced the knife for the stone on many occasions, and it can be the making of a sturdy fellow. The don't call me Colonel Hampton for nothing you know...
ReplyDeleteOh my gawd, you poor luv! My Ernie suffered awful he did with his Sharon. He weren't able ta ball of chalk for ages... 'ave a banana!
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ReplyDeleteAh, but in the case of Thadeus things may not be as bad as they seem. His excessive height will ensure that the point at which the knife must enter will be far removed, via lengthened nerve endings, from the brain - thereby ensuring that it will feel no more than a little prick. However, my sympathy is with him.
ReplyDeleteMe is afeared! I have a growing sense of dread that what we are witnessing here is, in fact, an extruciating rite of passage whereby all Members will experience the stone... Most perplexing!
ReplyDeleteMe is afeared! I have a growing sense of dread that what we are witnessing here is, in fact, an extruciating rite of passage whereby all Members will experience the stone... Most perplexing!
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