The day orange squash saved my life

Oh dear god. What a day. Here I was, all set to regale you with another amusing mugging story from the Parisian underworld, when this happens. Bear in mind the following story is not for the faint hearted or squeemish...

I went to give blood today for the first time in a year. Just a little prick (ooo-er matron), needle goes in, needle goes out. It all went fine.

"Put your finger on that"- Nursie says, pointing to the mark where the needle had gone in. I did as she asked but putting pressure on that spot on my arm (the bit that only heroine addicts are meant to touch) suddenly made me come over all funny. I really wanted some Um Bongo but there was no one there to give me any. It all went grey and I began to wish I'd gone to Ikea instead...



I woke up and four women were standing over me. That cliched "unconscious guy's point of view" shot you see in films. I had absolutely no idea where I was. At first I thought I'd fainted in a shopping centre, but the age of these women reminded me of a Blackpool Tower Ballroom Dance final. I laughed at an imaginary Bruce Forsyth and they all exchanged worried glances...
I suddenly remembered the needle, the vein and all the rest. I'd been screened off from everyone else and made to sit under a fan. Clearly not a very good advert for giving blood. I felt like a patient in a Vietnam war hospital.

A bloody good rest, 10 cups of orange squash and 8 biscuits later I was well enough to toddle home. "It's perfectly normal for your first time" said Nursie.
"It's my 7th time!" I whined. I'll never get that crystal decanter now...

Despite the nastiness of it all, that brief sensation of not knowing who you are or where you are was actually quite cool. Maybe they could work it into an Alton Towers Ride.

Anyway, next time I'm definitely going to Ikea (we're not being sponsored by them by the way- it just happens to be nearby)