I am sorry to report that my Christmas was uninspiring and somewhat drab. Nobody visited me, I received no cards, my Christmas dinner consisted of Bernard Matthew's reconstituted turkey cold cuts and a packet of Fisherman's Friends for dessert, and I developed an ulcerous sore on my thigh sometime during the lacklustre Dr Who: Runaway Bride.
The sore was raw and sent twinges of pain racking through my body with each prod. Biting down upon a wooden spoon to help me bear the agony, I dug around in the weeping pus-filled gash with a teaspoon and eventually discovered a tiny metal effigy of a scottie dog. It was a player piece from the board game Monopoly, though how it came to become embedded in my thigh I have no idea.
I sanitized the wound with a liberal squirt of Fairy Liquid then sealed it with glue to the best of my ability. I have placed the pewter dog upon my mantel. It will make a curious conversation piece.
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