The maverick’s maverick

I am a maverick, yeah? I do what I want, yeah? Spontaneity is what I am all about and I don’t care about you or anyone else. If I’m on the bus or the tram and I want to do the Lambada with a Yorkshire terrier then I will. If I’m in church and I fancy performing a magic card trick right when everyone else is singing Jerusalem, then I bloody well will. And, you know what? If you have a problem with that, well quite frankly I couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss. You can take your complaint and shove it in a box until you find someone who gives a damn.

The other day I saw a woman with a small dog. The dog was going nuts and after a fashion it started driving me a bit nuts, too. “Lady,” I said, whilst clicking my fingers next to her ear. “Shut your bloody mutt up will you? It’s driving me bananas.” You know what? She zapped me. That wizened old crone, with the wonky nose and barbed moustache, done me up like a good ‘un and I was laying there on the floor completely paralysed with her bloody mutt going nuts in my ear. The woman looked at me and smiled. At least I think it was a smile, I don’t know, I ain’t a doctor – could’ve been Parkinsons or something. I’m a maverick, so health stuff is not my area of expertise.

If I was a Doc then I would of course be using all kinds of zany and innovative treatments, just like those dudes in the 15th century. Got a bit of a headache? ‘ave some leeches on your face, mate. Broken leg? Get your dirty bones off my operating table – gently mind, it hurts if you bang them too hard on the floor – and have a couple of stag beetles in your coffee. Be right as rain by dinner time. If them beetles are hibernating ‘cos of the winter then you are a bit stuck so try some twigs or tiger teeth instead. Pain is all in the mind anyway, so it’s your own fault if it still hurts.

If your leg goes bad and falls off, well, I couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss.