Saturday Morning With The Chiropidist

My grandfather wasn’t allowed to
fight in the War because he had flat feet.
At least, that’s the story I remember being told as a child.
And so he was forced to stay behind, whilst his friends
went off to help liberate the people of France and Europe.
And all because of a couple of fallen arches.
As it turns out, my problem isn’t of a biomechanical nature afterall.
I was misled. Which is proof of why one should always seek a second opinion.
The Plester blood runs strong and true in my genes,
but my feet perhaps owe more to my
Mother’s side of the family. The Anderson side.
It’s from there, afterall, that I derive my webbed toes.
Now, whilst considered quite normal for birds and amphibians,
in human-beings the fusion of two or more digits of the feet
has always been regarded as somewhat unusual.
Not P. T. Barnum unusual, or Joseph “John” Merrick unusual,
but a talking point all the same. Something worth removing
your shoes-and-socks for if a party trick was ever required.
Affecting roughly 1 in every 2,500 people, David Cronenberg, Dan Ackroyd and
General Secretary Joseph Stalin were all born with webbed toes just like mine.
To this day, the exact cause remains unknown.
But yes, since you ask, I was always better
at swimming underwater than
any of my class-mates back at school.