It was a parasite. Judy spotted it as I was grinding my beans this morning. It was lodged behind my left ear. It explains all the self-doubt I’ve been having. It explains the paranoia, the self-loathing, the feelings of guilt.
Half-an-hour ago, Dr. Raj landed his helicopter in the back garden and came rushing into the house, his medical bag clutched in his hands and a steely look of determination on his face. Ten minutes later, he was operating.
‘This,’ he said, holding the bug up between his tweezers, ‘this is a Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite. A nasty critter that burrows into the skull and injects its toxic serum directly into the brain, causing the host to doubt his own sanity and wonder who he is.’
At this point Judy fainted.
‘The thing is,’ said Dr. Raj, who knows Judy well enough to barely bat an eyelid, ‘you have to remember who you are and begin to live your life as though the last few days never happened.’
‘A Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite?’ I pondered. ‘You know, I bet I caught that from that batch of Jamaican ginger cake Judy’s aunt Polly sent over the other week. I remember sticking a piece of it behind my ear while I held the ladder while Judy climbed on roof to fix the shingles.’
He slapped me across the face. ‘Tell me who you are.’
‘I’m Richard,’ I said.
He slapped me again. ‘Richard?’
‘Richard Madeley!’
‘You’re not an imposter then?’
‘Hardly. Could an imposter do this?’ I asked and proceeded to grab my big toe between my teeth and expose my groin as I do often do for the world to see at five o’clock every weekday on Channel 4.
‘Well, that’s it,’ said Raj with a salute and a wink. ‘Another case closed. Have to dash, I’m spending the afternoon helping Jordan overcome low self-esteem.’
‘Might that be another case of a Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite?’ I asked.
Raj looked at me. ‘Stick at what you’re good at Richard,’ he said as he swept a curl of hair from his brow. ‘Leave the diagnosis for those of us trained to diagnose.’
So, that explains everything. This Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite explains why I’ve had the feeling that people are talking about me. It explains why I’ve been not feeling myself.
And in honour of my recently departed parasite, I thought I’d give you some other famous cases of insect infestations. Such as the worm that taught Les Denis everything he knows about comedy. You didn’t know that? The year was 1978 and Les was an unknown working in men’s nightclubs across the north. He wasn’t particularly funny and thought he’d reached a career high supporting the new comedy star, Jimmy Cricket. A holiday in the Zambia and he came back a different man and the comedy god we know and love today. And all because of the zootzoot worm which had made a home in Les’ right ankle.
Did you know that Bo Derek’s much heralded beauty can be attributed to an allergic reaction to a ladybird? Or that Robbie Coltrain plays host to a colony of termites? More facts tomorrow.
And please: remember to check yourself for Jamaican seraphalonic ear mites.
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10 comments:
Richard, do take care of yourself dear. Remember, a flea in the ear can often be very debilitating and lower morale to a dangerous level.
Knowing you as I do, I think you'll survive.
All the best.
Swearing Mother, a flea in the ear's one thing but this was nearly a inch long and with fangs the size of of my thumb. I'm glad to be through it and back to my normal self. And it felt good to know that you were all with me in spirit.
Oh Dick I see you've now linked up with Brian Appleyard - but what has pleased me even more is that I see you have allowed 2 women to be on top of him. Keep up the good work.
I caught a bit of the show yesterday and saw you making the winking signal at us bloggers. I think Judy may have seen too 'cause she gave you a funny - what I call old fashioned - look.
yes I caught that wink, too. Careful, Richard. I don't want Judy getting upset. She's very good at those Old Fashioned Looks. Mind you most of us wives are.
Thinker, yes I wondered if any of you would pick up the wink. I can't get too many into the show otherwise they'll be referring me to an eye doctor. I just wanted you all to know that I'm still here.
Flowerpot, you're probably right. I think Judy might have twigged. Next time, I'll try to scratch the side of my nose, brush the hair from my forehead, or I'll lean back in the chair and say something with a raised voice.
It explains the paranoia, the self-loathing, the feelings of guilt.
I think those feelings were more likely caused by the affair you are having with one of the buxum barmaids in the village (yes, I have been spying on you). Have fun, just don't get caught!
Richard [may I call you Richard?] - you are a fount of information on mites, a much neglected study, to be sure.
EmmaK. You mustn't joke. The newspapers have no sense of humour and would take that as the truth. The truth is that Judy sometimes spends one night a week working as a barmaid. So, technically, you're right. Carry on the spying!
Lord Trafalgar Rock Pigeon, or whatever your name will be next week, I think my knowledge of mites nicely compliments your knowledge of pigeons. We are two wise old men of the world.
No point in posting a witty comment - you lay us all low with your increasingly surreal braindump posts. What will happen next?
Mopsa, not so much a braindump as a truthful account of yesterday morning. I couldn't make this stuff up even if I wanted to.
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