Greetings and Salutions Dear Reader.
One or two of you may remember my name from the dim distant past, before all became dreadfully complicated and I had to lie low for some time. I re-emerge finally in triumph (as would be expected) to clear up any misunderstandings which may have arisen, and clear my name once and for all.
My one avid reader (God bless him/her) may recall that one of my many hobbies is Amateur Medicine and Surgery. Many are the tomes I have read on the subject, and I may say in all modesty, that I am generally considered one of the world's foremost experts on these subjects.
I also, for research purposes, collect diseases and maladies (I won't bore you with the full list).
Some time back I took an interest in cancer (not having had it before), and so developed a fine lump on the right hand side of my face.
I was careful about this because our local photographer Séamuseen Beag Mac an Ridire - he calls himself "Flash", and the feliows in the local public house call him "Oh my Bloody Eyes" - stated definitively that my left side was the more photogenic.
Anyoldhow, the lump grew apace and it was decided that something must be done. This is where things got a little complicated.
Johnson MacSean, our under-gardener called with a bottle of foul smelling unction which he claimed would do the job. I was touched by his concern, but had to point out that it was NOT canker from which I was suffering. He beat an apologetic retreat.
Her Ladyship had been in clandestine discussions with our local doctor and they decided to ship me off to the Royal Victoria Eye and Ear Hospital in Dublin where a Professor Timon would operate and remove the offending piece of Murphy.
I, naturally enough, told them I was quite capable of doing the job myself, and a rather unseemly altercation took place, which ended in my agreeing to at least see this Professor chap.
Very pleasant and knowledgable was he when we met, and he readily (after some hours discussion) agreed to my plan.
The general idea was that I would take a local anaesthetic, in the form of 20yr old Jamesons Whiskey, we would rig up an arrangement of mirrors so that I could operate with my new electric carving tool, while he would oversee in case anything should go amiss.
And now the the awful part:
Shortly after admission the anaesthetist asked me to take a "couple of whiffs of oxygen, to get your levels up".
No sooner had I started than I passed out and came to in my room with staples, stitches, drips, tubes, and half the contents of the hospital workshop hanging from my face. I was LIVID!
Intercepting the Professor on his rounds I made it clear what I thought of his underhanded tactics, and unfortunately things got a little heated.
I must say that the Gardai (our Police) and the Judge were very understanding when they heard my side of things, even to the point of arranging a special room at a private clinic where I could convalesce.
All is well that ends well, they say - but beware! There are some VERY sneaky members of the Medical Profession out there my friends.