Why do all hospitals smell the same?

Last night was supposed to be a regular Thursday night, involving pints of beer and probably some very unhealthy food (of the fast variety I'm sure). It started normal enough, a bunch of us chatting and laughing and trying to make our dull lives seem interesting to our friends, when we got a call from Calvin saying during the course of his football match, he managed to really badly mangle his ankle (so bad he thought he'd broken it at first).

So in our slightly drunk state, we rushed ourselves off to St Thomas' hospital, nervous and excited because it was the most interesting thing to have happend in a while. Whilst waiting for him to be transferred from St Guys' we decided to have some food at the hospital canteen. My lord was I glad I was in the hopsital when I had dinner there, because I wouldn't want to be too far away from emergency medical treatment after having such a culinary feast. Dr D (or little k as he likes to sign himself as) sure does know how to treat a girl well, offering to buy me a chicken pie that was old and dry, looked like it was filled with glue, and tasted like old horse. Mmmm I'm lovin' it.

When we did finally get to see Calvin, the poor thing looked like he was in so much pain and his ankle had swollen up so badly it was like he had a baseball on each side of his leg. I have to admit, if I were in hospital with a fucked ankle/leg whatever, the last thing I'd want is two slightly pissed friends turning up going "OH MY GOD! Look at the size of your foot! Can I touch it? Can I touch it? Let's see if we can get it to move the other way! Wow that this is HUGE! Is it broken? Is it broken? Does this hurt?"

So that was my Thursday night. Spending 2 hours in the hospital waiting room, waiting for my friend to get x-rayed, watching all the people come into A&E, some of which were very scary - like the girls who looked like they'd been drinking too much and one of them had fallen over and broken a rib, or the two old drunk guys who didn't know each other when they came in, but started to bond with converstaions like "And a nuver fing, aaahhrrrggghh", or the guy who'd mangled his hand up so well he was dripping blood all over himself and his fingers had gone a really attractive shade of dark purple.

Ahh we sure do know how to have fun in London huh.