A Learned Doctor Writes

In advance of the exciting, and indeed dangerously imminent, new instalment of The University of the Bleeding Obvious (not long now, kids - don't get too excited!), we have great pleasure in announcing the appointment of our new medical officer, Dr A Bongo (whom God preserve) of Hampton Wick. He has been kind enough to send us this brief address:

Stop right there! Have you ever seriously considered what would happen if a piano fell on you as you were reading this? No, of course you haven't - that would be mental. And yet laboratory tests prove that in ninety-nine percent of all cases, falling pianos can be extremely nasty.

Good evening. My name is Dr Adolphous Bongo, and I don't want any of you thinking that there is the slightest reason to doubt my professional integrity, just because you've read my name in the national press alongside certain allegations of misconduct. The bottom line is that the British Chiropractic Association have their way manipulating the spine, and I have mine. Hell, if you're going to crack bones, do it properly. The fact that my method involves the application of power tools only serves to illustrate my progressive take on the matter, and any suggestion that the permanently 'folded' state of Mrs Eileen Trumpton is the result of malpractice is entirely erroneous. Trust me, you should have seen the old bat when I first met her, she was like a bleeding concertina.

Anyway, the reason I mention the piano thing is because as a result of new legislation, falling gold reserves and the shifting of the Gulf Stream, those Bleeding Obvious people have found it necessary to appoint me to the position of Chief Medical Officer. You know, like that chap with the craggy face in Star Trek. That's a point - how come the Star Trek Enterprise gets its own doctor? In my experience, most organisations of that size make do with some mouth-breathing teenager who wanders around aimlessly with a first aid kit on his belt, and whose only experience of medicine is a a three-hour course in first aid, a succession of dead goldfish and a box set of House. And yes, I did say 'Star Trek Enterprise'. Get over it.

Of course, my relationship with The University of the Bleeding Obvious goes back some way, so when they approached me to help them out I naturally bent over backwards to come to their assistance - which I can't help but feel is one more triumph for my particular brand of chiropractic treatment. Incidentally, my interest in the subject was the result of a fortuitous accident - I wanted to do a course on feet, but wandered into the wrong evening class.

I should point out that the risk of being hit by a falling piano in your own home is minimal, although ultimately it does depend on your particular lifestyle. By and large, most people don't have bulky musical apparatus suspended from their ceilings, and if you do then you can expect to shoulder the burden of the blame just as much as you can anticipate withstanding the impact of the instrument. Nevertheless, it is my job to consider such risks. And now, thanks to my diligence, my experience and my dogged pursuit of backhanders, I am in a position to say that 'Kicking and Screaming' is quite probably safe for public consumption and that the danger of anyone succumbing to an overdose of falling pianos is relatively slight.

Bongo