Bag o' blood
There are various problems that seem to arise in inbred populations. Multiple heads, missing fingers, extra fingers and staggeringly low IQ are the favourites, but what happens when your community selectively breeds for intelligence over a couple of thousand years?

Tay Sachs is what happens. A terrible genetic condition whereby a beautiful blue-eyed blonde-haired child is born to you, develops healthily and happily for the first few months, then regresses into an unresponsive mentally eroded twitching vegetable until death at around the age of four or five.

So most Jewish secondary schools regularly have people who come round, and in the same way as you would've had your BCG jab, they test all the kids for Tay Sachs. Not to see if they have it of course (they'd be rather dead by then) but if they're a carrier. It's useful information for finding partners you'd consider marrying etc. Now I didn't go to a Jewish school, but I had found someone I wanted to marry. I'd have to go and arrange the testing myself. Luckily for me, the NHS does the testing, and Barnet General did regular blood test every Thursday.

The next Thursday I could, I hauled myself out to the arse-end of the Northern Line and walked to the hospital. Once inside, it took me a long time to find out where I was meant to be going, but I eventually reached an open lobby area where people were waiting for blood tests. It was rather odd, as the tests were done in a series of small tent-like rooms at the front of the foyer, and all kinds of tests were being done. I sat down and after an hour of waiting started to drift off, drowsily wondering if they'd give me a biscuit afterwards like they did when you donated blood...

...and jolted awake as the number on my ticket was called. I was starting to get a bit nervous. After all, this was something that could be devastating if we were both carriers. I entered the blood tent.

"Uh, I'm having a Tay Sachs test..." I said helpfully to the nurse who sat me down and turned round to get the needles.
"Yes dear" she replied "Now hold still, this is going to sting a bit."

It's always a lie - it bloody burt, but because I was nervous the blood flowed fairly quickly and soon three small glass vials were full. The nurse withdrew the needle, dabbed, patched and put the vials into a little ziploc bag.

"Here you go dear"
"Oh! Um, thank you"

I left the tent clutching the ziploc bag of my own, rapidly cooling blood. Ten seconds later I re-entered the tent.

"I'm terribly sorry, but, uh, where do I take my blood?"
"To the blood clinic dear, it's on the third floor."
"Ok, thanks...silly me"

I hadn't anticipated spending my next hour wandering a hospital carrying a baggie with my blood in it. It was worth it in the end though - it all came through clear - yay! Too bad I have absolutely no interest in having kids...
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Thu 7 Aug 2008, 21:34, 2 replies)

So the negative test
proved you aren't super clever? hehe
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 15:05, closed)

it already seems evident that this is the case
from my befuddlement in the hospital :(
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 21:46, closed)