Face looks like a themed Google logo. Changes by the day.
Being known to a handful of healthcare professionals affectionately as ‘that bloke who had the Boris Bike crash’.
Talking like Louis Spence.
Chunks falling off face like an maxillofacial advent calendar. Festive.
Patronising kids in the supermarket who stare to ‘always wear a bike helmet’, like some kind of deranged 1950s superhero.
Looking like a vagrant whose stuff never gets touched. Also festive.
Hours spent concussed equals hours not spent hearing about Eurozone crisis.
Drinking through a straw makes 2 year old son feel superior.
Finally being able to look my hero Erik Estrada in the eye. We know what this is like.
Looking like a Hitler cat. Or the bloke from Sparks. Or Blakey from On The Buses.
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