No, this is not some kind of splitter activity from a body splinter group questioning the value of articulating arm pieces and demanding a revolutionary new configuration where forearms are welded to shoulder blades. Obviously, I mean who else would even consider such a thing? Answer, quite a few people from my personal collection of ˜oddballs, screw-ups and gimboids’ of which my readers make up a sizable happy – if medicated “ proportion.

The real question is who would actually write it down AND consider it marginally amusing. Ah, well the sample size is somewhat smaller.

The mutant elbow is still 50{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} larger than it’s twin on the right side further distanced from healthy skin by such intense scarring and holing, it’s like a small, bloody sea of tranquillity. And it hurts far more than a week old injury should which would trigger normal people scampering down A&E to ensure no permanent damage. But I KNOW once I set a single foot over the threshold, it’ll be Christmas on the ward for me. Deformed and painful elbow versus full life Hotel California” Trauma. Absolutely no bloody contest.

The elbow of knobbly shame punctuates my day with irritating facets. Firstly it weeps like a man forced go fencepost shopping on a match day (personal experience? Possibly) leaking out thick gluttonous deposits with the stickiness of honey. Any fabric coming into the slightest contact with the toxic gloop instantly affixes itself like proverbial shit to a blanket. It’s only slightly less smelly and far harder to remove with the deep breath, PULL, scream” approach removing sufficient skin to give you a first hand (elbow?) view of how the bone works.

Once the bleeding has stopped, the hurting starts over every bump or manhole or curb. The steel bike at home cossets the offending limb like a old sofa but the harsh aluminium London bike twinned with the crenulated capital road system marks me down as a Tourettes victim with a vicious twitch. I considered riding one handed but since my last uni-ride attempt got me into this situation, it seems prudent instead grit ones teeth and stiffen ones upper lip.

By the time you read this, I may have drowned. The summer weather” outside is lashing rain at high velocity against the window panes and my rain jacket “ much like my elbow pads when I stacked last week “ is protecting the inside of the car. Short sleeved riding top and no mudguards is one approach to an inch of rainfall. Just not a very good one.

There has to be a part of my body that’s working. I hope it’s my liver. Still picking the scabs on my elbow is fun. Well you asked! Oh sorry, must have misheard.