but then I thought that it is a story which seems very DiSable so here you go.

I got into work the other week to see a box of malteasers on my desk with my name on it; it was a different spelling, but I thought 'eh, everyone makes mistakes'. It was still odd though. Working in A+E it's quite common for doctors and nurses to get them but I'm just a clerical dogsbody.

Anyway they were sat there on my desk for a bit and the nurses kept saying 'it's got your name on it it's clearly yours', but I resisted. Then it kicked off and got really busy and when it died down I decided to open them. Shared them around with the nurses and docs and they were gone in seconds. Delicious seconds they were, too.

It was then that one of the charge nurses comes to my desk and asks if I had that box of malteasers. I said yes, that they were very nice and if he knew who got them.

Turns out they weren't for me, but for his 5 year old son. His very ill five year old son. His very ill five year old son who had just come through his twelfth major surgical procedure. On his birthday.

Yep, going to hell.