The weird tropical disease* (WTD) on my face needs urgent attention.
* = I am slightly over-playing this hand for dramatic effect.
It is a spot about the size of my... alright, here is my WTD and the disease is called impetigo.
I will say that, in my defence "people who play close contact sports such as rugby and American football are also susceptible."
And you know how well my career is going with London Wasps.
So I have to get some Fucidin cream on prescription to get it sorted and in 48 hours it will be gone.
So I open the door to the consulting room to meet the doctor who's on duty today and oh-my-good-damn-fucking-god. This is going to be fun. Fuck.
"Please take a seat", says the doctor.
"Thanks", I say...
The doctor says "it's nice to see you again". I say "yeah, it's been a while..." I don't finish the sentence.
It would a little inappropriate to say, "yeah, the last time I saw you was when you were pants-down on my living room couch with your head in my crotch."
So this is embarrassing and it illustrates again why London is a village. Like when you get a text from someone who says "saw so-and-so on Friday night. He screams "bottom"!
Or "he's just so crashingly dull".
Or "God, so-and-so was at the party. He didn't talk to anyone. He's an idiot"
At work and a colleague tells me that the doctor was probably as embarrassed as I was. I say that that's a possibility. She reminds me that he has access to a range of medicines that I may one day require (i.e. for Ibiza).
The irritating thing is that I don't have his mobile number even though he knows where I live.
I have to explain to the colleague that we didn't meet off Gaydar but actually in Fire when the rest of the world were going to their jobs.
He paid for the cab. And the pizza delivery.
And I think we've had quite enough of my gentleman friend in the medical profession.
I just hope that the stuff he's prescribed works.
Because of my earlier experience I am attempting to draw up The List. You must have tried it before.
As hard as I try (ahem) I can't help myself from trying to classify things.
What counts as what? What counts as a hook up? Is third base all the way? Is a hook up a kiss or is a hook up when you and another colleague find yourself in the stairwell of a Soho apartment block with two others.
I mean, it's hard to gauge these things.
Does a wank in the loos at Rupert Street count as a hook up? (No, I haven't actually, which you must believe because if I had, trust me I would tell you.)
I have put my lips on another guy's lips for quite a substantial amount of time on the roof of the Houses of Parliament but that was in 2004.
Thank you, I know. That's why I underlined it.
That was to be on the list somewhere.
On a Virgin Atlantic flight to Cape Town. But that was alone so it doesn't count. Maybe.
Actually, my list is rather dull although on top of the Commons, to borrow from Scrabble is the equivalent of 'quixotry' on a triple word score block.
Colleagues have decided that they want to join in this game. Only because I asked and we have:
While camping in Wales
On a train to Leeds
On Hampstead Heath (dirty bastard probably did it with George Michael)
At Torture Garden
And that's the end of that conversation.
And I think this is the moment where I officially bow out of this day because I'm done with it.
In a few hours I will change into my pyjamas and go to bed but for now, the day here is done.