Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Flickety Flick Flick

Remember the television series 'One Foot In The Grave' with the ever suffering Victor Meldrew? I remember it primarily because my life seems to revolve around Victor Meldrew moments, moments that you wonder if they have been scripted or arranged for maximum surrealness by unknown hands. Take Monday for instance where I found myself and Jayne sat in a small room waiting for a nurse. It's a long story so I won't bore you with the details let's just say things started to go a little strange very quickly...

We had only been sat in the room for about two minutes when we heard a shuffling in the corridor outside and in stepped a gentleman in bedroom attire, obviously a patient.

I think I had better warn you at this stage that I have replaced certain words that may offend, use your imagination to translate flick, flickers, blasted, runt, hiss, hollyhocks and anchors as you see fit for you see our new companion was a master of the potty mouth, a veritable black belt in oral filth, forget Chubby Brown even he couldn't make every second word this bad.

'I'm flicking sick of these runts, flicking me around while he flicks around, hissing about the anchors!'

And that dear blog reader was his first greeting to two strangers he had only just met, how nice.

'He wants flicking locking up the flicker, he's a right runt the blasted, I'd kick him in the hollyhocks the runt.'

Apparently a patient in his room wasn't playing ball and was causing a bit of a ruckus, which can be a problem, even more so if you had had a heart operation as he had so understandably he was quite upset. But then he got more upset.

'Mother flicking holy runt, flicking flicker he's full of hollyhocks the old blasted, they should deck him, let me have a flicking go I'll punch the runt out', I should point out at this time he was quite animated and throwing a few punches as a demonstration. I looked at Jayne in a stunned silence.

'And you know what the flicker did then? He threw a flicking cup at me the mother flicking runting anchor blasted. It hit me right here.' He then proceeded to remove his clothes.

'Ah yes' we both nodded, we both didn't want to talk much just in case a flicker popped out in sympathy at his semi naked torso.

'Sent me out they did, go and sit in the day room they said, I'll chin the flicker I said and threw the phone at him!'

Whimper! I said to myself internally and my sphincter did a little squeeze, I didn't feel like having some telephonic equipment shoved in my ear to the tune of take that you blasted flicker, we both slid closer to each other on the sofa with only a small easily overturned and thrown table between us.

'And you know what flick face did then? He said he was going to kill me the runt, so I threw the flicking table at the blasted flicking runt the flicker hissing runt, I'll stamp on his hollyhocks and hiss on his head'

I don't know what was worse, the fact that he was describing the type of violence him and this bloke shared or the fact that he turned to us and said he was a self proclaimed gypsy bare knuckle fighter that could beat another patient to death with his slipper and disembowel them with a chair leg.

He had a point, the ward he was in was small, only four beds and was full of recently operated on heart patients with serious recovery options so to have a potentially disruptive patient wrecking havok in a small area you are understandably concerned about your own health, the last thing you need is a cup thrown at you after having a pacemaker fitted but at this moment in time we were more concerned about our own safety and possibly affected vocabulary from the flicking verbal assault.

'Are you ok?' Said a nurse popping her head around the door.

'I'm perfectly fine, what's the flicking runt like?' said our companion.

She rolled eyes, obviously they were having a lot of trouble.

'Let me flicking back in there, I'll deck the runt. Flick the police, flick everybody, what he wants is a flicking good kicking, runt, runt, the blasted anchor is full of hollyhocks.'

If anybody had ever seen the television series 'Sorry!' with wee Ronnie Corbett then you would understand the urge that I was battling with to shout 'Language Timothy!' but I feared any admonishment would result in me being able to feel what it was like to be chair legged to death.

Needless to say we had to endure another fifteen minutes of this with each outburst getting worse and worse, at one point he pulled out his own portable heart monitor and started swinging it around like a club and bringing it smashing down into the table which was apparently the flickers face.

Finally a nurse popped her head around the door as said quite cheerily to us both 'You are ok to visit now'

My sphincter let out a Yankee Doodle Dandy and clapped, mightily happy to get out of there.

'Cheers, nice to meet you. Have a good day' said our new companion and with that my jaw hit the floor.

'Are you sure there shouldn't have been a flicker in there?' is what I wanted to say but instead found myself in a very British way wishing him a speedy recovery and you know I really flickety flick flick meant it and secretly still wanted to keep my teeth.

Some days the blog just writes itself.



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