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Ok people, you have all no doubt noticed that this blog has been relatively quiet over the last few months. But there was a reason you see…and I am finally ready to reveal all! It was all in preparation of my brand spanking New Blog!
You can find this masterpiece of modern writing and entertainment at
With any luck the new blog will be more entertaining, certainly more useful and one added advantage over the Vox blog is that it will allow comments from anyone, even if they are not Vox bloggers, there is a captcha screen for comments but if i got it right you only have to fill that in the first time you comment, after that it should allow you to just go ahead.
There is enough content on there to keep you busy for a while, mainly:
- More information about Hypnosis and Hypnotic processes than you can shake a stick at (including the murderous roots of NLP)
- All my various Hypnotic Services, which I am now going to do on a more full-time basis than I have in the past, each of which is presented in an entertaining enough manner to not just be your usual boring commercial site, which this is not, it is primarily my blog.
- More information about the minutia of my life than you ever got here, including my hobbies, information on the type of work I do and other stuff I have done or am busy with and there is even a picture of a naked ex-girlfriend for the perverts among you (that'll be all of you then) and don't worry, she's cool with it. And so is Redhead Girl.
The new Blog will be updated religiously once a week. Every Monday (sometimes Sunday night) you will have a brand new entry for your amusement and so as to take the edge off the start of your working week. In time I will bump this to two posts a week but as I am also completing another full book, revising a second and finishing a third, I am pretty wrote-out by the end of each day.
The site has a lot of information, some tucked away into a corner and other more obvious, but this is not a coincidence, I hope you will enjoy exploring the new site as it's been designed with an attitude from another era. An era when men were resourceful, heroic and capable, and women appreciative, free to express themselves and scantily clad.
Not surprising really since I removed my own IV intubation bit as well.
After they transported me to the ward, they left the saline solution I was attached to just lying on the bed with me. When I mentioned that maybe it would be a good idea to have that elevated on an IV stand so the juice was going into me instead of me going into the bag, they just did away with it. Considering they then also didn't feed me this was not ideal since I really needed some liquids. Luckily I did get water though. Anyway, they left the intubation in but it was very badly attached so I asked for some tape to stick it down properly. They apparently had nothing better than a weird packing tape thing and the job they did on it would have got your ass fired right away from say UPS on a low priority parcel.
I even texted Redhead Girl to bring me some plasters cause at this time I was not sure how long I'd be in there and if they'd need to suddenly pump some weird drugs into me or not. As it turns out after a hellish night of no sleep I just removed the damn thing and chucked it into the little bin-bag they gave us.
The positive thing about being hooked up to a heart monitor every couple of hours if not more often is that I was able to verify that my heart rate throughout the stay in the hospital was between 59 and 63. Which is pretty good.
Anyway, after a week on the Manga Armour my foot began to hurt and it turned purple as soon as I put it down from its elevated position. When I went back tot the hospital they cut me out of it with some weird sonic saw thing, just like Vicola mentioned in one of my previous comments and then gave me a Robo-Cop boot. It has its own air-pump. And it allows me to get around quite a lot better.
It will still be months according to the docs before I can kick like a mule again, but I am doing my damnest to foil them and heal faster.
Today marks one month exactly since they operated on me. According to them I have at least another 5 months of recovery to do in the best of cases. And everyone I talk to that had this injury (I am literally tracking people down to ask them and researching like a madman on the net) tells me the same.
Well.
You read it here first my loyal followers. I shall prove the Earthling doctors wrong I say.
I mean to be back on my feet at the very least a month earlier than that.
So far I am actually about 3 weeks ahead of schedule because I should have been in the Robo-Cop boot only in another two weeks although only for a further 4 weeks. After which physio and crutches would have been the way to go. For the next 4-5 months according to them.
In view of this I should be in the boot until after the first week of September, after which only then would physio commence in earnest.
I plan to be out of it sooner than that and I have begun my own form of physio in a very mild way.
I am also looking at some weird and even experimental processes to heal faster, although I am not doing anything stupid. The reason you see…is I have most definitely to be able to be on my feet and no longer a cripple by the end of this year.
And in the next post or two…I shall finally reveal all. In a post that will shake up this here little blog in an unalterable way. Yes Earthlings…my plans for world domination have begun in earnest. So. In the meantime….
Take a look at this armoured boot. Remember it well Earthlings.
* I jest. If you have read my hospital diary entries, you'll know I liked my hottie nurses. They were all cool really. Except for the Congolese farmer one that made her patients shit all over the place. And didn't bring me piss bottles. At least she was funny. You know…now…when I am out of there.
I kid you not. And I know this is necessary because my ex-wife who had a popped spinal disk and required an epidural injection received it on the wrong side of her spine. So yeah…comforting. But anyway the op went well and apparently the surgeon did a good job too from what I can tell.
The second cast was the post-op one and the interesting thing about this one was that when I went in for the check up and got the third cast, the nurse who did the cast started off by saying:
"Oh my…they really didn't trust you I guess, look at how heavy this thing is…" And indeed it was a bit of a mechanoid type of plaster cast that threatened to dislodge my knee with its weight.
The third cast, which I got a couple of days ago….is not really a cast. It's more like the stuff I am going to build my laser reflective suit for space-travel out of!
It's made with this resin-tape and comes in different colours…Redhead Girl was pushing hard for fluorescent pink, but I managed to get bright red (they didn't have luminous green) Anyway, the stuff is like magic!
It's really light and TOUGH. I plan to buy a few crates of resin-tape and make my own samurai armour or something. the stuff is just too cool!
I have no idea how they will take it off without using a power saw.
Oh…and I guess my own self-hypnosis and medical opinions are working, cause I am 2 weeks ahead of schedule and in a couple of weeks they will put me in a removable cast already, which wasn't supposed to happen for another 4 weeks.
So good news all round really.
Oh and a friend from training is gonna send me Zap gun parts! I already have the laser for it, and the all essential Frappulator coil and at least one Bronze Barrel, though I wanted a fatter one, so if he can get me the pistol grip and the trigger guards I want…I am soon going to astound you with my brand new zap gun.
I tell you Earthlings…It's all coming together…it's only a matter of time before I find the spaceship now!
They were just robbed of it by yet another hand-balling, cheating scum in white and blue.
Ghana is now my official team. They played well, positioning was brilliant, they played fair and and considering the level of pay/training/facilities and so on that they have compared to the other world cup teams, not to mention how they "lost" the game against Uruguay, they are the moral victors of this World Cup as far as I'm concerned.
And I loved Kingson. That goalie never lost focus throughout the whole game and he was always in the right place at the right time. To lose on penalty shoot-outs like that after that hand-ball was just heart-breaking.
Next Morning:
6:35 – me: I'm awake! I still have both legs! I now finally know that… YES! One CAN fill a whole 2l coke bottle with a single, uninterrupted stream of piss! And I've been wondering on the empirical outcome of that question since age 9 on Giachetti's farm! Things are looking good! 
xx
6.40 – Little Sister: It's good when your goals are achieved. 2 litres, impressive. I still have a goofy smile on my face & can't wait to c him on Saturday. Woo hoo Let me know when they let you out… if ever! Seems like that place is allowing you to discover great, great things! X X X
6.47 – me: Oh yes. Like the old guy next to me whose real name is James Fitzroy but likes to be called Tony. Or as I like think of him, Tony “The Squid”. Or just “Spitty”.
6.52 – Little Sister: Ha ha ha ha ha ha. This place sounds great! Can't wait 4 your next blog! X
6.56 – me: I'm taking copious notes…
9.31 – me: “Spitty” has kindly provided a truly incredible and rare “full phlegm experience” to breakfast, requiring his portable spitoon to be changed just before we started on…wait for it… Lumpy wet, milky porridge. I added butter for the yellow mucus look because fuck it, may as well go for the Deluxe experience!
9.31 – Little Sister: Ha ha ha ha ha ha you need to film this!
9.35 – me: Because I'm starving, I asked if I could ALSO have a yoghurt when they offered Spitty one to help him take his pills. The nurse brought me this:
Already opened (and not yet licked?) And said “from next door” with a smile.
Her surname is Moriartry (Sherlock Holmes' evil arch enemy is of course Prof. Moriartry. She must be his great-great-grand-daughter. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Note the type of youghurt.
I ate it. Xxx
The doctors then came round and gave me the good news that the surgery had gone really well and they had performed a complete re-attachment of the tendon as it had been completely snapped through.
Slightly less good news was that I would probably be in a cast for 2 to 3 months with adjustments to it every 2 weeks as the foot needs to be held in position in specific ways over the period. I asked how long it would be before I would be able to run, kick and jump and they said for most people it could be 6 to 9 months but they reckoned for me it would be 6 months as I was (to use their words) "an athlete and very fit".
I asked about the blue placebo pill and if they had given it to me because of some safety over the drugs I had already taken. They all looked at me flabbergasted and eventually the doctor said:
"That was morphine in tablet form."
Which kind of made sense because I had initially refused morphine when I woke up after surgery. I'd had it before and it just made me more uncomfortable than the pain. When I have been given morphine it made me feel as if all the blood on one side of my body drained to the other side, depending on how I was lying down and then I would also get weird semi-dreams but not quite nightmares, sort of like bad quasi-hallucinations that wouldn't let you sleep. Then again…it could be a placebo and it was being administered with a double-blind test. Fact is the little blue pill did nothing to me. I can SEE the Matrix I tell you!
I then found out I could go home that afternoon and my sister was happy that “they were finished testing on me!”
11.50 – me: Tony washed, as did I. I think I figured out how they decide which ward they put you in. Cock size! U could see his 80+ yr old dick bounce even through the sunlit curtain as he washed his skinny ass. George Perkins – The Mule Ward!
11.55 – Little Sister: You are cracking me, why were you looking anyway… Oh ya for the cause. At this rate it's a book not a blog!
11.59 – me: wasn't looking. The flop-flop made me turn.
12.00 – Little Sister: I think I just pissed myself
Redhead Girl was now on her way to rescue me from the Congolese Nurse who was back on duty and who just wanted to buy a Tractor and go back to the Congo and farm vegetables, but she couldn't save enough money at the moment…and when I asked her for pee bottles she just continued talking about her tractor and left the ward. I
I think this woman wanted patients to fertilise her ward in the hope she could grow tomatoes in it or something.
I rang the bell and the Chinese nurse appeared again. I had never seen her other than on these occasions when I needed pee bottles. I was starting to suspect a deeply racist division of labour in this ward. The Congolese nurse after all was the one of what I now simply refer to as the “Diarreha Incident”. Which aside from spraying one quarter of the ward with the insides of that poor deaf old man, also involved much shouting and pleading from the nurse in question concerning the cleaning of said unfortunate gentleman. The Chinese nurse on the other hand seemingly only dealt with piss bottles. And I had to call her back because I filled on right to the brim and there was no way I could put it back down without spilling. One litre bottles are now what I refer to as “little boys toys”.
Pissing in one of these things is an art form. Especially since if you are generously endowed you have to worry about filling the thing too quickly and “dipping” in your own urine, which is undesirable…on the other hand, lowering the bottle too much puts you in a cramped, bent forward position in which even if your bladder is about to burst, you can't pee. If you manage to stand on one leg long enough to actually begin to urinate then the slippery thing begins to get heavy and if you try to relax too much you might let it slip. In the end I just placed the bottle on the bed which allowed me to stand on one leg and rest my wounded leg on the bed at the same time. The supporting bed would see to it I didn't have to hold the thing too hard either. It was a delicate operation and so as to make sure not to dribble anything other than in the bottle I had to be careful and concentrate. The whole thing took ten minutes and if there was too much going on, like a pretty red-headed doctor coming up behind me while I am bare assed trying to pee with my back to her, it kind of took longer.
Tony on the other hand could fill one in the middle of the night in 10 seconds flat. I still don't know how he did it, but I assume he just let the python out to find its own way to the bottle. I just hadn't mastered these independent processes yet, being a young buck only half his age. But I vowed to learn. If I am ever in a hospital in my eighties, I swear I will fill up a row of those bottles without getting out of bed at all, just like Tony the Squid.
When my sister heard Redhead Girl was coming to get me she sent me this:
12.34 – Little Sister: I told her you're making me laugh too much and she should leave you there 4 a bit longer
Luckily Redhead Girl is a loyal and sweet girl and she did come to rescue me.
As it turns out just before she did, I got talking to Tony and found out he was a famous movie editor that had worked in Hollywood for years though he was a Londoner born and bred. He had come to visit his family with his wife of 25 years and had fallen and broken his hip shortly before his flight back and then got pneumonia, which had taken longer than the hip to heal. But he was now on the mend.
He lived in Los Angeles and had done for years and his marriage was blissful, which I could tell from the way he spoke to his wife on the phone. Sadly I never got to meet her as I left before she arrived for visiting hours.
I told him about my own interest in film and asked if he had any advice for a blissful marriage of 25 years. He said:
“Oh don't take any advice from me on that front…I was married three times!”
I wished him well and a speedy recovery and safe journey back, and I am sure he will do all of the above. The whole time I was there Tony was unfailingly polite and dignified at all times with all the nurses and he'd obviously been there a long time as he knew his routine and when it didn't happen on time he reminded the nurses of the procedures he had to undergo.
I'm glad I got to meet him.
My cast needed adjusting and the pretty red-headed doctor woman came along with various implements and made a valiant effort, aided by my occasional brute force when the cast was too thick for her to cut, she eventually got it trimmed properly. She was pretty kind considering it was a thankless and grubby task to be cleaning out between my toes after the plaster had been chopped to suit.
The Moriartry girl was a little sad to see me leave with Redhead Girl I think, as she had expressed an interest in being hypnotised but worried that “I might make her do something she might not have otherwise done”. I told her in my condition she would have been pretty safe really even if I was of the Svengali persuasion, but she then never took up the request she had made that I hypnotise her that day.
And so, with my loyal Redhead Girl helping me along, I returned to my castle fortress on the banks of the River Thames.
Where I spent the week-end preparing a file for my solicitor who will be responding to the letter I had received from my landlord's lawyers. That's another blog for another day….but suffice it to say that a warrior's day is never done.
There is an endless supply of stupid, evil and irksome Orcs, and they delight in attacking the most when you are weakest, but that's life. I am readying boiling oil and sharpening my bastard sword even as Redhead Girl builds more sharp-pointed arrows.