Eight months ago, in front of an audience of hundreds, I fell over and injured my ankle. Despite everything traditional medicine has thrown at it, I still wake up in the night in agony, and limp around everywhere like a creepy old man with a beard. My NHS doctor, as much as I respect him, says that the only cure for tendonitis is rest. TWO YEARS of rest. Now, living in a have-it-all-now society, I want it all now, so I lay down this challenge:
Calling all faith healers, reiki masters, witches, witch doctors, accupuncturists, astrologers, chiropractors, naturopaths, reflexologists, crystal healers, ear candlers, magnet therapists, gua sha practitioners, rolfists, urine therapists, hypnotists, therapeutic touchers, snake-oil salesmen, so-called charlatans and random healing types who use comic sans (the font of champions) on leaflets in newsagent windows...
As they say on Ghostbusters: I AM READY TO BELIEVE YOU
If you can cure my ankle, make me throw my stick away and high-kick down the street shouting "Praise the Lord, I'm cured!", then I shall pay you
And, in this cynical world where your beliefs and practices have been sneered upon by the so-called educated elites, I am pretty sure that respect is the one thing for which you are looking. Also, one million billion pounds, and Ben Goldacre comes round your house and does the washing-up for a year.
What are you waiting for? This is a genuine offer: CURE ME!
Homeopaths: Just drop a couple of your sugar pills in my coffee and we'll call it quits, right?
(In practical terms, there's a bunch of beardy God Botherers that hang around the side entrance of Festival Place in Basingstoke, just next to the famous Wote Street Willy, where they offer healing through the power of their invisible sky beardo. I'll be giving them first shot at disappointment)
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