Cripes. Back in A and E for a follow up during which I beg the doctor to hack my arm off. I mean my cast. He obliges me by cutting it in half. I can now bend my elbow (plus shave my own pits and tie my own shoelaces) - although he assured me it would 'hurt like a bastard' for a few days.
He's not wrong.
My only solace during the 3 hour wait is reading about Bret Easton Ellis' 'self-loathing and vast apathy' and his 2 week crack and smack binge during the run up to the premiere of American Psycho.
'I only hang with friends if they're carrying an eight-ball' he says.
I know the feeling.
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