Shithead Wullie and Wee Jim.

[piscatus absentis]

Wee Jim was distraught when his wife died during his 60th birthday celebrations.  His distress lasted so long that  his doctor suspected some kind of illness and arranged for him to be admitted to hospital immediately after the funeral.  Hospital life, he found, was exactly what he was used to, meals delivered regularly, sympathetic ears to listen to his worries and problems and no concern of any kind with matters domestic.  His wife had been the old fashioned type who, in exchange for an un-opened pay packet, had ensured that he lacked no home comfort of any kind.  In fact, as Jim will tell you, only one thing was missing but at his age it?s not that important and anyway it only results in a squad of quarrelsome weans.  After a few weeks he was discharged with no diagnosable condition.

But Jim is not an unintelligent man and realised that this could be used to his advantage.  Every year since then, and this was over twenty years ago, Jim presented himself to his local doctor in mid September with strange and worrying symptoms that warranted immediate hospital referral.  There attention would be lavished on him by kind hearted and attractive nurses while he willingly submitted to a battery of tests set by concerned consultants.  Of course nothing would be found although some ambitious doctors actually diagnosed some very rare condition that had never been seen before and was untreatable.  These doctors would now have an eponymic medical syndrome and a professor-ship at a prestigious university.  Jim would be discharged with regrets that he could not be helped and would at once book a flight for convalescence in Spain where he would enjoy the sunshine and cheap drink funded from the savings on fuel bills and living expenses of the past few months.  He would return at the end of March just as the loch was warming up and the fish were coming on to a regular feed.

This worked smoothly and perfectly until the year Jim, who had never suffered a day?s illness in his life, developed a genuine condition and had to spend most of  April and May undergoing hospital treatment.  Consequently he did not arrive on the loch until the end of June and the first person he encountered was Shithead Wullie.

?Hullo Jim, how are you feeling?? was Wullie?s opening gambit.  ?Aye, no too bad?, was the reply.  ?Whit wiz wrang wi ye?? queried Wullie.  ?A stane in the kidneys?, said Jim.  ?Oh, that?s murder?, said Wullie, who is also an expert on all matters medical.  ?Did they yase that intersonic thing on ye, that?s whit happened tae me?.  Wullie knows all the medical terms.  ?Naw, naw, they hid tae operate?.  ?Operate, whit dae ye mean operate?.  And Jim began his tale.

He explained that the stone had passed into his bladder and a special procedure was required to find and remove it.   ?Furst thing a nurse comes alang an? shaves ye?.  Wullie shuddered at the though of a razor near his biggest asset.  ?An? then they pit a catheter up?.  ?Whit?s a catheter??, asked Wullie.  ?Its like a bit o? gas tubing?, said Jim.  ?An? they pit it up yer ?.??, asked Wullie, visibly turning grey.  ?Aye, right up, aboot twa fit o? it?.  ?Up yer ?.??, asked Wullie again.  Aye, right up?, related Jim who was enjoying Wullie?s discomfiture.  ?Dae they gie ye a pill fur the pain??, Wullie queried.  ?Naw man, ye?ve got tae be conscious aw the time?.  Wullie was now turning green and his face was a study in terrified horror.  ?An? whit dae they dae then?? he asked.  ?Well they take this thing like a set o? pliers at the end o? a bit o? wire and pass it up the tube wi? a light so they kin find the stane?.  Wullie was close to passing out but was too fascinated and horror stricken to move.  The thought of under-going such a procedure in such an important part of his anatomy plainly caused him great distress.  He also failed to notice that the wind had dropped and the midges were forming a cloud round him.

?Wiz it sair??, he asked.  ?Sair?, said Jim, ?ah couldny piss right fur weeks efter it, ah?m still no right?.   ?An kin ye still? ah mean kin ye? kin ye still be a man?, yelped Wullie   ?Aw naw, naw, naw?, replied Jim,  ?this pit?s the kybosh on any kind o? fun?.  I?ve never seen one man look so happy and one so miserable as Jim and Wullie that day.   Wullie?s green complexion was now turning red and blotchy and he realised he had to escape.  ?Ah?ll see ye again?, he squawked to Jim and began running down the loch, away from the dread of such an operation and several million midges.

?Well, he?ll no bother me again fur a while?, said Jim as he re-filled his pipe to make sure his cloud of Revor plug smoke was still effective.