The Boy With A Foot For A Face

My Dear Princess Normal & Fellows,

We had a friend back in Edinburgh. Whenever she would visit us, she typically brought up an interesting documentary she'd seen on Channel 4.

"Did you see it? It was one of those medical documentaries about this poor man who has a rare disease that means he is slowly turning into a fungus."

Or:

"These was this POOR woman. She has this rare genetic syndrome which makes her poos back up and come out of her ears."

Or:

"This man in Sri Lanka has developed thick leathery skin. They call him 'The Alligator Man of Colombo'. Also he's growing a tail."

She LOVED those medical-prurience shows, while Er Indoors can't stand them. This is because they invariably show them at tea-time, and the last thing she wants to see when she's tucking into a Shepherd's Pie is a documentary about a man whose willy looks like a Yorkshire terrier.

"Turn over! Turn over! QUICKLY!" she'll say, scrambling for the remote. She HATES shows like that.

"Shows with titles like 'The Boy With A Foot For A Face'," explained Er Indoors, helpfully.

I mention this because tonight (at teatime) there's a programme on called, "The Man With The 80 Pound Groin". The description for this show is that it is about a man whose scrotum suddenly starts to grow at an alarming rate. I'm not making this up.

I'm assuming they will be showing some of this on the telly. I mean, they're not just going to be talking to a man sitting there in enormous pants saying, "So... It's big then...?" I'm guessing there will be copious scrote-shots.

Er Indoors will be APPALLED that such shows have followed us to NZ.

I'm sure we come across as very unsympathetic. And if any of you reading this happen to be The Man With the 80 Pound Groin or The Boy With A Foot For A Face then I apologise for the pair of us being horrible HORRIBLE human beings.

But instead we will be watching The Big Action Film. And enjoying our tea.

I actualy didn't mean to talk about that. I meant to talk about the walk I took today. I walked along Cuba Street which is in the heart of Wellington's bohemian quarter. In my Edinburgh-equivalence mind, it is like Wellington's Rose Street, but a little funkier. There were blokes playing Django Reinhardt type jazz and some cool sculptures. In the extras I've included a picture of the Big Water Splashy Sculpture and a mural of happy bees.

To be honest, it was so cool I felt a little out of place. Moving on.

S.