You may be interested to know that I shall soon be opening a Berkshire branch of AHK Maroon Chiropractology Limited.
I shall cater for sciatica (leg pain) sport injury, migraine, stress, bullying in the workplace, slipped disc and arthritis.
I have already insured my hands for One Million Pounds at Lloyds of London. That is £100 000 per finger!
I am presently auditioning 25 year old assistants. You know who I mean, no make up, fresh, beautiful, pony tail, anais anais. I will pay full equity rates plus 50%. You must not skimp on professionalism.
Berkshire is wonderful. I love it. Sooooo bucolic. Constable country.
Its lanes are spattered with charming pubs and twists and bends which the motor just adores.
One strange thing, the livestock form swastikas when feeding in the field!
I assume the farmers have a sense of humour and lay out their cattle cake upon the sward in that unfortunate symbol for some English reason that is beyond me.
It's like the hoax forest swastika in East germany.
That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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19 comments:
May a humble GP's daughter rip a page from her heavily-embossed book of memory, and dash it foursquare in your face? My dear old father loathed and mistrusted any species of complementary practitioners. Reflexologists he hated most of all, but chiropractors ran them a close second. He regarded them all as charlatans, and often treated with contempt those wretches who stood before him, having been on the business end of an Arachis Oil enema, begging for his Hippocratic Oath to kick in, and a 'script for Streptokinase powder.
Also, surely, you recall the appalling tale of Jimmy McGlinchy, one of your countrymen? Presenting to a licensed chiropractor with nothing more than hammer-toe, he was confined to a wheelchair within six weeks and interviewed on Richard & Judy. And yet, the poor oaf was still keen to claim the experience a "triumph", and to describe his violator's hands as "those of a concert pianist". Really, the whole thing is beyond reason. Stick to what you know, Dr Maroon. It is what you do best.
Hero of the 2008 Paralympics? Who could forget? Two bronze and a silver, and to think he was a nobody when he came to me. I could see at once he was destined for the wheelchair., his limp was very far advanced. My skill was in adjusting him to his new life as Goal Attack in wheelchair netball. He has never looked back. (well he can't his collar won't allow it)
One of Britain's heroes.
We salute him.
Bucolic plague is very hard to shift if it takes hold.
No doubt you will join the Old Berkshire Hunt. Or seduce her.
At £100,000 per finger, I think you'd better find something less valuable to pick your nose with in future.
Ronnie, you should see a doctor (not this one) about that low finger esteem you have, you don't want it spreading.
Doc, what are you doing in Berkshire, apart from meddling with people's bones?
He's on a promotional book-tour, I think. He's managed to persuade his publishers to fast-track "Hammer & Sickie; the British Paralympic Team and Me" in time for the Christmas rush. Yesterday, he was signing at WH Smith, Maidenhead, and well over 17 people turned up. Today, Waterstones of Reading, and they predict a riot, especially as Jimmy McGlinchy is to put in an appearance.
And all these years I thought you were in bonny Scotland, doc! I've got a touch of Arthur in me plates o' meat, I shall pop in for a foot massage next time I'm visiting Aunt Hermione and Uncle Fred in Emmer Green (not Emmerdale, please note). Perhaps we can meet up with Mrs P in that nice pub she likes in Playhatch and you can massage all four of our feet simultaneously.
My mother nearly named me Hermione. Every day I'm not named Hermione is a joy in kind of a reverse "Boy Named Sue" way.
But about the hobbled of Berkshire, might it help them to know that you are schooled in the management of great pressures and physical forces? Put a picture of your recent ship on your brass plaque, Docs. If they know that they will be treated like a valuable war-ship, I'm sure they'll readily submit their ankles and other sore bits to your capable protractor and benchvice.
Clarissa,
am I vain to assume some of Jimmy's glory? I hope not. He is my prodigy; yet to see his glowing proud face, man, sorry, I'm filling up, when I see his beaming face and the Union Jack around his shoulders, and his medals hanging off his handle bars, I think; "My work here is finished!"
Only, It's not ME that does it, I am only a conduit, there is a Higher Power at work.
Daphne, I should be delighted to administer a four foot rub next time I'm in Camberwick Green, East Berks. It's actually one of my party pieces. Four feet at once, it's like plate spinninig. You are quite right though, I stay among the purrrrple heather of Perthshire: it is as Mrs Pouncer says, just an urgent publicity visit. Got to get your face out there. I have a public.
Eryl, I am in Berkshire to meddle with people's bones
Kim I don't pick my nose in Harlem, I pick my feet in Poughkeepsie.
Inkspot, I am not sure I like your tone. Your jealousy knows no bounds; perhaps some standard integrals will sooth your chalky peturbations. I hope so, for your sake.
Conan A Punne! I read it twice. Yes you are right. Berks has the perfect mix of town and country. Good air too.
Yes, PCB, but where is the inspiration?
Did you see Jimmy on Phil 'n Fern this morning? I must say, I wasn't impressed by the way they had to use the autocue; surely each disability is as obvious as the next? Fern got it badly wrong with the small-bore marksman, I thought.
But Jimmy saved the day! How cheerful he is; and how he idolises you! When they pressed the flat-head mike to his throat, his husk of "Dr Maroon made me what I am today" forced a cascade of hot tears through my rigid eyelashes.
For a moment I thought I read 'proctology', there, Doc. A bit more 'up your street', I think.
Eryl, you are probably right, it all started when my wife informed me that I was useless with my hands.
Clarissa,
you took the words right out of my mouth! Didn't he look wonderful? I was very disappointed with Fern. Her obvious surprise that a blind man should win gold at the smallbore shooting was a disgrace and took the gloss off a triumphant occasion. I was very put out. You are right! Jimmy saved the day AGAIN! I am so humbled by the fact that I released the Hero in that man.
I believe some feeling has returned to that hammer toe he had. He is coming to see me and I hope to build on that. I feel I can put it right.
AHK
Sam, I re read your comment, Sorry. Yes of course. A few autographed photos of Air Vice Marshals and Commodores expressing their gratitude would help enormously. The fact that it has nothing to do with back pain would be neither here nor there.
Proctology? For you Foot eater, anything. It's a little more expensive, there are extra staff to pay, but I'm sure the experience would change your life. What is it? Is it warts or has Vapirella taken an unnatural interest in you? Never mind, save it for the consultation.
Ah Ronnie, the eternal complaint from the fair sect. Don't rub them in front of her, it makes you look like Uriah Heep. They hate that.
The swastika is an ancient symbol that has been found worldwide, but it is especially common in India. Its name comes the Sanskrit word svasti (sv = well; asti = is), meaning good fortune, luck and well-being.
(i'm sure YOU of all people already knew all that.)
perhaps the farmers are practicing the indian form of Feng Shui...
Yeah maybe Sarah, but I don't remember reading it in Old Moore's Almanac.
"Feed your sheep upon a waxing moon in the shape of Nuremburg"
isn't a great amount of the population in the UK now Indian?
i seem to remember my ex complaining about it..
27% of the population now own corner shops and or a Ford motor car. You cannot argue with stats.
I said YOU CANNOT ARGUE WITH STATS.
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