Hold on Nan.

What a day I had yesterday. My Doctor (Doctor Hook) prescribed me some tablets for my athletes foot. The tablets had worked like a treat apart for the side affect of memory loss. I’d been walking around in a dream like trance all day (itch free) when my dear old Nan called in a right old state. Her Fiat Yugo had broken down round the back of Lidl and she needed me to come and sort it out. Knowing that the car park at Lidl becomes ‘Dogging Central’ after 9pm I set off at pace. The tablets had obviously affected my memory because it took me a good 2 hours to drive to the car park which is only a 20 minute walk from my flat (18 minutes on pogo stick.) As luck would have it the Doggers were only just warming up and I got Nan on her way before the cock started flying. As I pulled out of the car park I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be heading up to Norfolk for a whittling weekend at my agent Bernie Shimshelwitz’s country retreat. I called Bernie and explained that the tablets were playing high havoc with my memory system, he told me that if I didn’t get there by 11 he’d have to give Nick Berry the futon. I floored it. (125mph through South Mims) and cleared the M25 in record time and hit the country lanes at break neck. It was then I noticed the car behind me was right up my arse, flashing its headlights and making me well nervous. I was using some of my best driving moves but the driver behind me was taking risks, bouncing off the grass verges and keeping up with me every step of the way (we both got a good 2 foot of airtime at one point.) At this stage I was convinced that my pursuer was determined to follow me to the gates of hell. Then the tablets started to wear off and in a moment of clarity I remembered I had my Nan on tow. Yikes!