About a week back, my scalp started itching and flaking like mad and being completely non-functional as a head covering. So I go to Dr Yeung and he has a look at it and says: 'poor old scabby head, eh' (it seems a bit familiar for a doctor, but I've known him since the Chin dynasty).
Turns out I've got the old sebborheic dermatitis again, so he gives me a prescription for a bottle of agony juice (steriod stuff) and that shampoo that smells like coat scuttles and carbolic soap. And he says to me: 'Now, don't use any products apart from these two on yer head, until it all clears up.'
It's been three days now: no conditioner, no styling creme, no hairspray, no nothing. I can't even use the hair-dryer, so I can hardly spend any time in my office/cupboard cos my barnet would freeze up. Oh, and I can't even wear a scarf to cover it up cos as Dr Yeung said: 'You need to give it a good airing.'
I look like the first Mrs. Rochester.
I just went out to the big dustbins today and, bloody typical, I saw about 8 million people that I know (well, three).
Brizio pulled a horrified face and put his hand over his mouth. 'Oh no,' he said, 'have you had the nasty shock?'
George (who was walked Henry, wearing his 'Camelot' coat) said to me: 'Are you well, dear? Looks like you've had a nasty turn.' So, I changed the subject and asked how Henry was and George said: 'The bald spots are getting worse, probably due to the embarassment,' and he looked at old Camelot whilst he was saying it.
Then I saw this odd woman (I think her name is Nita) who's got dyed orange hair and several horrid kids, all under the age of 10. One of them (a particularly nasty looking oik aged about 5 - I know he was one of the buggers who threw the pebble at me: I saw the little sod!) - is called Norris.
Now this Nita had told me some long while ago that she thought Norris had a hearing problem. Well, the doctor sent her to a specialist and the poor person examined the little beast had a word with his mother by herself, after the ordeal.
The specialist said: 'I'm happy to tell you that Norris has perfect hearing.'
Nita said: 'Then why doesn't he answer me when I call him?'
And the poor specialist (who'd probably had enough of ears and kids) said: 'I suspect he's bone idle.'
Now, whether the specialist actually said 'bone idle' or not, it was obviously something that totally incensed old Nita and, apparently, she said to the specialist something along the lines of 'how dare you' but with a lot of swearing in it.
I said: 'Well, at least he's not deaf.'
And Nita said: 'I don't believe a word of it, I'm getting a second opinion.'
I tell you: that kid doesn't need a hearing specialist, he needs a spell in the army. I don't know why everyone thinks kids are so sweet and innocent; it's like they weren't kids themselves. Sometimes I think that the only person who thinks like me is William Golding.