My new Benny Hill look
Reflecting on the year drawing mercifully to its close, I am aware that it has, even by the hypochondriacal standards of the last four decades, been a frantic one on the medical front.
Many phials of blood have been extracted and analysed. Vinyl-gloved fingers have been inserted, and duly waggled.
The wizened little raisins that so reluctantly stand proxy for my testes were prodded by a GP, preparatory to the date with ultrasound technology that unearthed no worse
