Proposals to overhaul organ donations and boost the number of transplants in the UK by 1,200 a year have been backed by the government.I've always been in favour of the whole idea of organ donation. Obviously, I'd like them to make sure I have indeed shuffled off the mortal coil, rung down the curtain and gone to join the choir invisibule before getting the Black & Decker out. I mean, my just having a bit of a lie down shouldn't be enough of a signal for an impromptu filleting.
I'm fussy that way.
But on the whole, I'm pro-donating. In fact, I think it's a terrible shame that they generally only get to have the unseen, funny-looking innards. I think I have so much more to offer.
I've always been quite keen on my ankles. Hardly ever used, one careful owner. They do come attached to my feet, which I suspect is par for the course. And Katie's never liked my feet - apparently they remind her of the vampires in The Lost Boys.
It freaks her out when I shout out, "Michael! Michael!" at random intervals.
My shins, they're quite respectable. For reasons I can't quite fathom, they have patches where no leg hair grows. Odd, but it opens up the opportunities for cross-gender recipients, I suppose. You've received someone else's shins, but at least you can go easy on the Immac. Always look on the bright side, I say.
My kidneys and liver? Well, they've had a pretty good work-out so far, so people might want to tread with caution. In fact, I'm almost certain that 'treading' would be counter-productive. My bile gland must be fairly under-used though, as I tend only to watch TV when under the influence of the afore-hinted alcohol.
I've got simply smashing elbows, even if I say so myself. The skin's a little wrinkly, but apparently that can be put to good use in other places. Should the need arise. Use your imagination.
And as for my larynx - people tell me I have a good telephone voice. A little Brummie, I suppose, but that never held Ozzy Osbourne back.
On second thoughts....