Now that got your attention. So there I was, minding my own business getting out of the motor at the shops when all of a sudden I felt like I'd just had the shit kicked out of me by a gang of Ninjas. In the blink of an eye I went from happily listening to the Bill Withers CD I got for Christmas to clinging on to life outside of my car. I'm not being dramatic when I say it was on par with being shot in the kidney by a Baton gun. So there I was, in agony. Suffering from wounds nobody could see and having to put up with some tracksuited wanker smirking at me as I limped/hobbled to 'find cover' which happened to be a bench. There I sat for 40minutes building up the balls to walk back to my car and make my way home. Here, at home with the back of a 168 year old weight lifter I find myself with no visible bruising, no gaping hole that requires 4000 stitches thus justifying my whimpering. No I have to sit here and put up with the dog taunting me with that look that says "You Sir are a fucking weakling." Anybody else been through similar unexplained and unseen agony recently?