Thursday, March 08, 2007

From Neil the nine-fingered...

In addition to my having what I suspect must be the only doctor left in the western world who cheerfully makes house calls if he hears I'm poorly, I also have the kind of doctor who, when I call him to ask if I should head down to the emergency room, says "Why don't you come up to my office and I'll see if you need stitches." So I did, and I didn't need stitches, just a superglue patch-up on a finger that had had too close an encounter with a kitchen knife.

So instead of posting anything interesting, I'm going to put something up that doesn't need much typing:

Russian fishermen catch squeaking alien and eat it...

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