A career mistake -
About 14 years ago, I got the handle how to use the internet and printer and rustled up a fine CV claiming I was a Nero-Surgeon specialising in brain disease.
Why?
That was because I was claiming benefits. If you wrote – ‘odd job man’, the sneaky bastards would send you all over the place where they would pay you less than minimum wage to do menial tasks.
But – if say you a Nero- Surgeon (I think the spell checker is playing up… Neuro-Surgeon, hah.) They didn’t have many places for such a genius--- until…
I will never forget the day it happened. 30th of February 2004. Pissed and stoned out of my box-
About 14 years ago, I got the handle how to use the internet and printer and rustled up a fine CV claiming I was a Nero-Surgeon specialising in brain disease.
Why?
That was because I was claiming benefits. If you wrote – ‘odd job man’, the sneaky bastards would send you all over the place where they would pay you less than minimum wage to do menial tasks.
But – if say you a Nero- Surgeon (I think the spell checker is playing up… Neuro-Surgeon, hah.) They didn’t have many places for such a genius--- until…
I will never forget the day it happened. 30th of February 2004. Pissed and stoned out of my box-
Dring-Dring-
‘Hello, hic.’
‘Is that Professor Karl Greenberg, the neuro-surgeon on the phone?’
Not really – it was against my left ear…
‘Yes it is.’ Quick pull on some strong hash.
‘This is the NHS. All our Neuro surgeons are on strike. We have a man with a bullet lodged in his head. It must be removed, or he will die.’
As if I care? Must be a bad man. I mean… normal people wander around but do not get shot in the head. As far as I was concerned- let the fucker die. Eish.
‘We are sending a helicopter to pick you up in 30 minutes.’
That gives me time to change my underpants and clean my teeth.
Fast forward- the operating table…
Me –
‘Can you play some cool vibes to steady my nerves. ‘Join me in death’ by HIM, is not bad. Oh – is that 100% alcohol? Let me have a swig.’
‘Hello, hic.’
‘Is that Professor Karl Greenberg, the neuro-surgeon on the phone?’
Not really – it was against my left ear…
‘Yes it is.’ Quick pull on some strong hash.
‘This is the NHS. All our Neuro surgeons are on strike. We have a man with a bullet lodged in his head. It must be removed, or he will die.’
As if I care? Must be a bad man. I mean… normal people wander around but do not get shot in the head. As far as I was concerned- let the fucker die. Eish.
‘We are sending a helicopter to pick you up in 30 minutes.’
That gives me time to change my underpants and clean my teeth.
Fast forward- the operating table…
Me –
‘Can you play some cool vibes to steady my nerves. ‘Join me in death’ by HIM, is not bad. Oh – is that 100% alcohol? Let me have a swig.’
Unbeknown to me – it happened that it was watch, wait and
see, balcony day for budding Neuro-surgeon’s students. Wow – this is my chance.
Fame at last.
(I suggest – at this point, you stop giggling and top up your glass of favourite tipple. For what happens next is X rated.)
‘As you see before you- is a man with a bullet in his head. He is dying. The only chance of him surviving is if – I can remove the bullet.’
Sounds of applause. (I suggest – at this point, you stop giggling and top up your glass of favourite tipple. For what happens next is X rated.)
‘As you see before you- is a man with a bullet in his head. He is dying. The only chance of him surviving is if – I can remove the bullet.’
‘First I must enter his head. This will help me to find the bullet. To do so, I will use a 5kg hammer:’
Lots of oohs and ahhs.
‘As you can see. His head is open and somewhere in the mush is the bullet. If I remove the bullet – the patient will LIVE.
Interruption from nurse.
‘Huh- what- what you mean he is flat lining? Zapp him with a few volts.. ah…where was I? Oh yes – where that nice 100% tipple?’
Glug- glug.
‘Eish – why don’t they add some flavour? Well, the bullet is now so in lodged, I will take out the entire brain and stamp on it, till the bullet comes out.’
Some of the students start to vomit as Professor Karl Greenberg rips the mushed brain out and starts a River Dance on it. The bullet pops out.
I am triumphant.
I explain to my assistants, as I throw the muck back into the empty head-
‘Fill his arse with 200 litres of lead free petrol, shoot his veins with 2 litres of adrenalin and give him 2000 volts every ten minutes for an hour. He will come around.’
I was exhausted. Not easy saving someone’s life. All I had to do was sign off the patient.
His name – FRAKENSTEIN.
I got the first flight out of the country. The thing is even searching for me on Facebook!
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