An empty medicine bottle
Are you sitting comfortably (yes, that also includes you with the badly-positioned remote-controlled butterfly strap-on)? Then I'll begin...

Once when going on an Inter-Rail journey, I was heading towards the town of Strasbourg. While on the train as it trundled along the Marne Valley, I noticed my skin was breaking out in a rash. At first, it seemed like just a discolouration of the skin, but by the time my train had arrived, it was getting painful. After I dumped my stuff at the youth hostel, I thought it would be wise to see a doctor. The doctor was unlike my regular doctor back home. He always seemed to know what he was talking about. I was told that I had contracted a very rare form of a rash that would become extremely painful. Thankfully, there was a cure. He gave me a medicine that was manufactured jointly by a French and a German company. "Take this", he said. "Your layers of skin will be completely replaced and the rash will be gone". "It might hurt a bit, but trust me, it's for the better". Feeling slightly nervous, but with my full confidence in the doctor, I downed the entire contents of the medicine bottle. My layers of skin were starting to be eaten away. It kind of scared me seeing my skin disintegrate but I had a very strong faith in the doctor. That was my most reassured peaux essen.

Next stop on my journey was Amsterdam. Having your skin being eaten away is a somewhat painful experience. I saw a doctor who prescribed me a local painkiller. I immediately took the first pill. "Ahhhh! The relief!" It was only when on the train to Prague that I realised I had forgotten to ask how often I needed to take a pill. The instructions were entirely in Dutch, but it was full of numbers so I thought I could figure it out. However, when I looked at the serial number, there was a string of three consecutive '6's. I am not a devil worshipper and in no way do I intend to become one. In Prague, I asked my Czech tour guide (who did not speak English but spoke French) where to dispose of this unholy numeric string. He recommended ripping off the serial number and dumping my Dutch '6's off a certain bridge (he didn't know the French word for bridge). The bridges in Prague were numbered from 1 to 15 so I asked him which one. "Most treize c'est pour zessen"

By now, things were beginning to get better. I checked my e-mail, and lo and behold, there was one from 'Veronica'. She was inviting me to come visit her in her home country. She was looking for a new boyfriend and was inviting several candidates to take part in a competition to win her love. "Excellent timing!" thought I and jumped on the train from Prague. I arrived at a large river where we were instructed to start some process of land-reclamation by planting trees. The winner was to be the person who planted the most trees. Trees are a right bugger to plant in the middle of a flowing river, but nevertheless, I managed about 20 in one afternoon. Alas, I was not the winner, but it was certainly my most enjoyable “most trees su Po” session.

Writing this, I feel as if my mind has been taken over by foreign-language speakers. This has made me write a lovely post for this week's QOTW. That was my most treasured possession. Fin.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Mon 12 May 2008, 10:21, 4 replies)

you scare me
but in a nice way.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 12 May 2008, 10:32, closed)

Reading that
Made my pun-gland hurt.
( Cawl, Mon 12 May 2008, 10:36, closed)

@CHCB
I often get told that.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Mon 12 May 2008, 10:38, closed)

I object
on the basis of johnny foreigner puns coming over here and stealing jobs from the honest decent hard working British puns and making them look bad.

Still gets a click for making me smile though.
(Bazongaloid, Mon 12 May 2008, 10:48, closed)