Boots and the Nuremberg Trials

These delicious edible versions (see pic) depict the most searched for health term in 2012 was “Haemorrhoids”: endearingly referred to in my own home town of the East End of London as Nuremberg Trials – or simply “piles”.

Now, I have never suffered with the Sieg Hiels myself of course, my prison purse is as clean and smooth as a baby’s whistle, but (excuse the pun) they remain a keen source of fascination for me and many thousands of others.

Emmas are particularly pertinent during this Christmas period because their sole cause is lifting things for too long – Christmas Shopping being the trigger for a swaggering 70% of all cases of Farmer Giles.

“Emerods” here should not be confused with “stair rods” which is a serious, even fatal occupational hazard for those seeking advantage in the bodybuilding/carpet fitting game. No, Emerod is the Olde English spelling for the Fruits of the Loo. My own father-in-law told me that and he still pronounces it this way.

And so it was, this afternoon had me doing a spot of Christmas shopping and taken with an overwhelming sense of weariness I took a seat at the pharmacy counter in Boots the Chemist – for that was where I happened to be browsing. The seat was no doubt intended for the elderly or vegan customer but neither seemed to be present – so I dropped my sweet derrière onto that softly beckoning velour.

Relieving my plates of meat (did I mention I’m a Cockeknee?) my mind and eyes wandered to the shelves in front of me but something just was not right.

At first I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, ironically a common difficulty for sufferers, but then the dangling little bulb came on! Take another – closer – look dear reader…

Creams and lotions abound for both the “haemorrhoid” (presumably for those lucky enough to only express a single bud) and “piles”. To the left of the House we have those with affinity for haemorrhoids and to the right of the House we have those more inclined towards the piles. Far be it from me to draw political analogies but could it be this sloppy thinking that has brought us to the rim of the EU conundrum?

I thought about this situation for a moment and even checked some of the packaging to see if an explanation could be found – but no clarity emerged.

I had to speak to someone. Rita, the pharmacist, was evidently highly trained and she really knew about the Darling Buds of May – she called over the store manager.

I put it to him directly, no beating about the bush. “Mike”, I said, “it’s about haemorrhoids. Can you help me clear something up?”. He got the wrong end of the stick completely but he quickly recovered his composure although his discomfort was soon as plain to see as nipples through a cheap dress shirt.

He had to admit that the two terms referred to the same condition and he could not apologise enough. I told him I’d be writing to Head Office. And I will!