About 15 years ago, me and a friend of mine were dicking about chucking a ball into the neighbours garden. On my way back from retrieving said ball for the umpteenth time, in my haste to exit their premises I tripped over their step and a small stone became embedded in my knee. My mother rushed me to the doctor's, who proceeded to fish around in my knee with a pair of tweezers. He was at the point of giving up, almost refusing to believe that there could possibly be a stone in there. Through my tears and anguish I implored him to keep searching. He jabbed me with anaesthetic and fished ever deeper, eventually pulling the offending pebble from my withered knee. I thanked the doctor and went home for tea.
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