Our subject has, over the years, developed the very sensible policy of always having very blunt kitchen knives; whilst they may have the disadvantage of not being able to cut anything they have the marked advantage, in light of his low quality knife skills, of not being able to cut him.
His mother, thoughtful devil, has however despaired of this and so purchased him a set of very sharp high quality knives for his birthday. Last night the foolishness of this shone through as he distracted himself whilst chopping potatoes.
With claret spurting everywhere a flash of logical genius came to him and he plunged his bleeding hand onto the roasting hot grill pan, neatly cauterising the wound. Still quite painful though.
Still discombobulated from the pain when he left home this morning to head to Bristol for the night he left his passport at home...he is flying off skiing from Gatwick tomorrow.
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