I am on all fours on a hospital bed and the doctor has just put a needle into my buttock. It’s Christmas Eve 2013 and I had other plans; the doctor had other plans, too. But we are where we are. And that is bottom-to-face in A&E.
“Could you possibly close the curtain?” I ask, since my naked lower half is visible to most of the ward. Nobody seems very interested in me though, dealing with their own seasonal calamities such as they are (“I punched my front door” etc). Still, I’m keen to claw back some dignity. I feel like a piece of performance art on Trafalgar Square’s fourth plinth.
