KEITH NEWBERY It's a mystery why I managed to put my foot in it...
Last week I had a chiropody check-up and the woman frowned at a small patch of peeling skin.
“That looks like the start of athlete’s foot,” she said. “Best get some cream before it gets any worse.”
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Hide AdAs this particular foot is now the only thing about my superstructure to which the adjective ‘athletic’ can realistically be applied, its welfare became a matter of some urgency. So I toddled off to Boots, where the young woman behind the counter presented me with that desperate smile common to those who think they are about to be asked a trick question.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
I should imagine ‘please may I have a tube of athlete’s foot ointment?’ is about as uncomplicated as it gets in a chemists’ shop.
“Yeah, but are you taking any other medication?” was the unexpected reply.
“Plenty,” I assured her, “but I don’t rub any into my feet. Be assured my big toe is not in imminent danger of an overdose.”
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Hide AdThe pharmacist was summoned, and when I refused to apprise him of my entire medical history in public simply to forestall the annoyance of a tingling toe, he decided I was not to be trusted with a pot of cream which had now assumed the aura of hemlock.
It was time for the fight back to begin.
“By the way,” I said, “on my way into your emporium I could not help but notice the poster on the door offering me a chance to win a ticket for the Olympics.”
He beamed contentedly.
“And apparently, all I have to do to be eligible for such a prize is take a test for chlamydia.”
He nodded, but the confidence drained somewhat from his smile.
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Hide Ad“But since I always thought chlamydia was a spring-flowering shrub, perhaps you would be kind enough to describe this infection to me in some detail so I can judge whether it’s worthwhile my entering.”
He declined – which is why my foot is still itching and a seat at London 2012 remains a distant dream.
** Dressing for success fails to impress me
Have you noticed how television experts – in a desperate attempt to look different – all end up looking the same?
Archaeologists, for example, consider themselves half-dressed unless they sport eccentric headgear, beneath which mad hair bursts forth in frantic clumps.
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Hide AdPreposterous pullovers – like those favoured by Mick Aston on Time Team – are also considered de rigueur.
Antiques experts, on the other hand, tend to be more conscious of the epiglottal region.
Lurid bow-ties and cravats abound, and scarves are encouraged no matter what the season or temperature.
To see little Philip Serrell sweating beneath a giant muffler on an August afternoon – while the sun beats down on the corrugated roof of a salesroom – is one of the pleasures of Flog It.