The knee

Elizabeth Hurley has a malformed knee. She says it is congenital and her grandfather had it. She makes a wiggly shape with her fingers at the site of the knee and I obviously look puzzled, because Elizabeth Hurley then rolls up her trouser leg and shows me the knee. 'Do you see?' she says, pointing at her genou. Actually, I see what looks like a perfectly ordinary knee. A bit knobbly, but there again it gets fed a lot of jam in the mornings, so I rather hope the knobbly bits are fatty lumps on the way to being a size 24 genou.

Anyway, she cannot stand upright now because of her malformed knee. This means she is unable to do the washing up after supper. I do not point out that the malformed knee seems to have been acquired today after the cooking of a dozen muffins and before the clearing up. Neither was the malformed knee an impediment to going down the local market this morning and buying a pair of stilettos for a night out at a disco on Saturday night with some new found friends acquired at the local pub. And I bet come Saturday morning the malformed knee is perfectly flexible once more.

Perhaps I look sceptical. Because Elizabeth Hurley then offers the very credible excuse that she got her injury today while being a horse to amuse Shark. So I equip her with a hottle bottle to wrap round her malformed knee and Dig accuses me of doing that deliberately so I have things to blog.

And actually, while we are on the subject of injuries and looking for something to blog, Grit has a very tender left buttock today after falling down the attic stairs last night.