oh dear we seem to be drunk again.
then a flying saucer hits me and splits my ear right open. i feel nothing.
according to differing accounts it was a bottle, a plate or an ashtray. this is why i don't believe anything anyone says anymore.
it's not too bad but after looking in the mirror and seeing the big notch in my ear i realise it probably does need a stitch, if only for cosmetic purposes. i ask everyone for superglue.
concerned friends convince me to go to the hospital. after an hour i get sick of waiting (don't get me wrong, i was having a good time, talking to the nurse, and that nutcase with all the blood on his shirt), walk out to the petrol station and buy some superglue. this was st thomas, lewisham, by the way. home, we disinfect the ear with (paulette's...) cachaça and superglue it shut.
self-reliance, people. i can't believe they convinced me to go to the hospital. if you took the advice of all ten of them excitable babbling drunken gesticulating idiots, you'd end up with your eyelids superglued shut, a tourniquet around each leg, hobbling around in a circle with your foot bandaged tightly to a piece of wood which is nailed to the floor.
