When I was coming around from the anaesthetic in the recovery room yesterday I remember trying to say something to one of the theatre nurses.
I think it was just a wisecrack but, whilst I was forming the words beautifully in my mind, things were going wrong somewhere between the picture I had in my head and the message reaching the nurse's ears.
Whatever I was saying was coming out as "bbbblllllbbbbllbllblblbbl".
I'm not one to give up easily, but I could see that by about the fifth time she was getting a bit sick of saying "I'm really sorry, but I can't understand what you are saying".
I just gave up, opting for a thumbs up sign and a gurning grin and I went back to snooze.
I was on the level where, had I been holding a kebab in hand, I could have had a meaningful conversation with the chaps in Chip Pan Alley last Friday night ( http://thebookofsilence.blogspot.com/2010/02/notoplip-shogun-and-kebab-frenzy.html )
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