Greaves' Disease
Julie Greaves suffered from a terrible skin complaint. This wasn't just a few patches of mild eczema; this was full-on, Singing Detective-esque, weeping psoriasis.
No-one would go near her as a result. If it snowed, it was attributed to Julie sneezing, and blowing off another layer of skin.
Girls in her netball class would drop the ball if she threw it to them, screaming "Greaves Disease", like some extreme form of "fleas". Cornflake cakes were avoided in the canteen - the cooks had obviously used the flakes piling up around Julie's chair. Rumour had it girls wouldn't use the toilet if they knew she'd been in there first, lest they caught her sickening condition from the toilet seat.
In short, instead of the compassion she so desperately craved, she was shunned as the leper she so evidently was.
I last saw Julie working as a barmaid in a local pub. 15 years had passed and still I could only just bring myself to pick up the pint she served me, and drank it only after rigorously checking the glass and contents for "bits". Judging by the looks of disgust on the faces of the other punters she served, they spent their evenings doing much the same.
No-one would go near her as a result. If it snowed, it was attributed to Julie sneezing, and blowing off another layer of skin.
Girls in her netball class would drop the ball if she threw it to them, screaming "Greaves Disease", like some extreme form of "fleas". Cornflake cakes were avoided in the canteen - the cooks had obviously used the flakes piling up around Julie's chair. Rumour had it girls wouldn't use the toilet if they knew she'd been in there first, lest they caught her sickening condition from the toilet seat.
In short, instead of the compassion she so desperately craved, she was shunned as the leper she so evidently was.
I last saw Julie working as a barmaid in a local pub. 15 years had passed and still I could only just bring myself to pick up the pint she served me, and drank it only after rigorously checking the glass and contents for "bits". Judging by the looks of disgust on the faces of the other punters she served, they spent their evenings doing much the same.
written by Ni*k Hun*, approved by Jamie
I suffered from a form of Greaves Disease: not the flaky kind, just the sort of eczema that occasionally made huge clefts open in my hands, and made it impossible to grasp anything, or move my hands especially well. Oddly, I received precisely zero kickings because of this, but was consistently done off teachers for having shit writing and they always made me play the most elaborate instruments in music, and then I'd get done for there being all blood on them.
There wasn't even a backlash against my leprosy when 'The Singing Detective' was on. Probably because everyone was too busy wanking over the dirty bits. Which I couldn't fucking do because of my spack hands. Cunts.
There wasn't even a backlash against my leprosy when 'The Singing Detective' was on. Probably because everyone was too busy wanking over the dirty bits. Which I couldn't fucking do because of my spack hands. Cunts.
written by ro* s*ith, approved by Mansh
I also suffered from a form of Greaves disease, which in my case resulted mainly in the occurrence of great, seeping patches on my shins. To avoid any pisstaking, I would tell everyone that they were merely studmark injuries from playing football. Fortunately, no-one cottoned on to the fact that the closest I ever came to actually playing football was FIFA on the megadrive (Greaves disease permitting).
written by ja*es *or*son, approved by Matt