I've been having a spot of bother with the old glass eye. During an important production meeting the other day at
Nuts TV it fell out and, to my undying shame, bounced across the table only to become lodged in the ample cleavage of one of the luvverly presenters of
Fit and Fearless.
And as I don't get up to town as much as I used to, seeing my Harley Street specialist is proving somewhat of a pain. So I asked him if he could recommend a chap in these parts. Sure enough, I got a letter today from my new Kent consultant, a Mr R. de Cock.
Knowing my usual quack possesses a rather aqueous sense of humour, I imagined he was pulling my plonker. But no, apparently Mr R. de Cock is one of the best minces men in the land. He's even had erudite articles published in
Eye, the journal of the Royal College of Ophthalmologists.
Oh well, I'll give him a go I suppose. Let's hope it'll be better than a poke in the proverbial with a, er, sharp stick.
My new ophthamologist, Mr R. de Cock, has recommended these little beauties. Wire framed, too, so they're not so prone to spontaneous combustion as the plastic Ben Sherman Margates.
