‘Give blood,’ we are constantly told. ‘You could save a life.’ What a load of rubbish.
Being the generous and charitably minded person that I am, I carefully sliced open my carotid artery with a fruit knife and diverted the ensuing crimson jets into a Morrisons bag before nipping down to the local blood bank.
When I got there, and showed the contents of the bag to the receptionist, was I greeted with the gratitude and thanks I deserved?
No, I was wrestled to the ground by two security guards amid a cacophony of screams and vomiting, before being anaesthetised without my consent, then sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
To top it off, as I was being carted into the ambulance, I saw a nurse pouring my donation down a drain and at no point was I even offered any tea and biscuits. Blood bank? Bloody con more like.
Simon, St. Michael’s Secure Mental Unit, Warwick