ONCE BITTEN

OK, enough Scotland already. Gyppo Byard has tagged me to produce a list of things I have done which I never want to repeat in my life. In his case it was swimming with dolphins. I don't normally do tags. It feels like an invasion of privacy, like I'm being interrogated in a Stalinist dictatorship, their nostalgia for which Gyppo and Boyo have already made plain. It's not that I'm paranoid, I just spent a lot of time in diplomatic circles, hemhem, if you follow me. Mrs Pouncer will know what I'm talking about, being a Mossad agent.

But as it's you, Gyppo ...

1. Joining a gym (or anything else)

It wasn't so much the activity, as the lugging the gear around, the getting ready and the getting dressed again afterwards. When I came face to face, so to speak, with a Brazilian in the changing rooms (and I do not mean a Carmen Miranda impersonator) I knew this was not for me. In fact joining any kind of a group or association is anathema to me. I am with Groucho Marx on this one.

Not a club man

2. Theme park ride

The first and last ride I went on was at Asterix Park near Paris in the 1980s. A fairly gentle-looking Pirate Boat, from the ground at least. By the time I got off, my psoriasis (which had stopped years before) had returned with a vengeance and I was shaking so much I could hardly walk. I had to be taken to look at the dolphins to calm me down. Which is where I think Gyppo came in.

This is not photoshopped, it's really at the top of
the 1000-ft high Stratosphere tower in Las Vegas.

3. Share ownership

I had some shares once. They took a hit. It felt a bit like the picture above. Psoriasis is caused by excess adrenalin. I think I've had all the adrenalin I'll ever need.*

Share and share alike

4. Mussels

It's not that I don't like them. I love the smell. But when you've done a projectile vomit from the top of the grand staircase in Geneva central station, you think twice about seafood. It's unfortunate that they happen to be the national dish of the country I'm living in.

Couldn't find a picture of the grand staircase in Geneva station

5. Stockings and suspenders

Not for anyone. No man is worth that. I am so old that I remember the advent of tights, to the applause of women all over the world. And even them I only wear if it's really cold, under trousers. You can throw in thongs while you're at it, not that I've ever even contemplated that. They're just plain unhygienic.

If they're so great, boys, why don't you wear them?

6. Tags

I think I'm supposed to tag someone else now, but I'm not playing that game, pal. I'll never implicate my fellow travellers, you totalitarian pig-dog! Do your worst - I'll take the names to my grave. Oh - what's that? Me go swimming with dolphins? Well, now I come to think of it, I'm sure that Dr Maroon has a subscription to "Private Eye" ...

* I realize that I inadvertantly revealed something about myself which I would not have chosen to share with you. Still, psoriasis isn't as embarrassing as folk dancing, is it, Gadjo?