“Please don’t touch that!” shouted the ambulance woman in my direction.

It was my first trip in the back of an ambulance on a legitimate ‘emergency’, and though my friend lay prostrate next to me, my curiosity continued to get the better of me.

“I like these beds, they’re a bit futuristic looking, don’t you think? Like space-beds or something. When I was younger my BMX had tyres like this one.” I continued to ramble.

I will admit to having a slightly nervous element to my speech, as I was trying to distract TJ’s attention from the fact that she was in a neck brace and strapped to a board. Initial signs were that she would be fine, but you can never be too sure with these type of injuries. And I needed a wee, so it was a stressful time for everyone.

Unfortunately, in stressful situations, I make rubbish jokes. This is what I do. Sometimes it helps to alleviate the tension, in others it makes me seem like a bit of a dick. I am still not sure which of these I was accomplishing. It began with me calling “Shotgun!” as they loaded her into the back of the ambulance.

“I didn’t push her by the way, and if she says different it’s because she is obviously delirious!” I commented.

The look I was given by the ambulance woman ensured it was followed very quickly by, “That was a joke by the way, I hardly ever push women down the stairs any more. That was a joke as well. I can not help myself.”

We arrived at the hospital and I was sent to the waiting area to read three-year-old magazines whilst she went off for scans and stuff.

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