I had to share this message with you all: I hope the author doesn’t mind me passing it on in the hope it’ll make you grin as much as it did me! Author, I salute you.
“I should start by saying that I’ve found out how to make George feel better- Much better. Listen carefully. Back in the days when I used to be a pirate, I had a bit of trouble with Lymphocytes and Myeloids. Well, to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t really them, but their little immature brats, which we called “Blasted Lymphoblasts”. They used to get in every part of our Pirate Ship, the mighty “Argh Peterty”, and reproduce like buggers- quite out of control. They got in our way, the bloody blasted blithering bloated blasts, and quite literally prevented our entire ship from functioning properly at all. For months, there were no attacks, no looting (therefore no booty), no comely buxom dames, and no merriment dancing around the ships mast, as was usually customary. Our diet also suffered, and we became weak with the scurvey for lack of vitamins from fresh provisions. So you can imagine we were a bit out of sorts for quite a while there.
Then, over a few whiskeys in the jar, I came up with the master plan that would rid us of the “Blasted Lymphoblasts” forever, and get our ship back on track. It seemed the main problem was a massive overcrowding of Blasts, severely inhibiting any other activity, which was necessary for the normal running of our ship. So- “Get the Blasts of ship”, I says to meself. It was simple. My master plan was like this… I called a meeting of all Lymphoblasts, on shore. Then as you can imagine, it wasn’t too difficult then (once they were ashore at their “meeting”) to sail off into the sunset.
However, as we were so weak with the scurvey, we could barely lift anchor. Anyway, by this time, word had gotten around of our predicament (and our secret plan to rid our ship of blasts). So it was an amazing sight and inspiration to see 100’s of small little dingys rowing out to our aid. You may not believe this, but its true. They each attached a rope to the bow of our massive 15th century oak panelled galleon, and rowed their little hearts out, and eventually to our astonishment we were moving freely, slowly sailing further and further away from the hoaxed Blast meeting on the shore. It didn’t take long before we sailed out clear of the heads and we were on our way again, all of us waving our heartfelt thanks to little folk in row boats, which by then had gathered in the hundreds. We knew we couldn’t have done it without them!
Wow, what a story. Sure does take me back to those pirate days. So, what I’ve done to help cure George is this…shhh….come closer, I don’t want the Blasts to hear…what I’ve done is this. I’ve arranged another hoax “meeting” for the Blasted Lymphoblasts and Lymphocytes (cos they’re as bad as the others) in a small town in Falsenameshire in the north of England, for Sunday the 27th November. shhh, not a word OK.
Oh yeah, and I’m pushing off from Yokohama, in my little dinghy as soon as I send this George.”