My fellow skittlers, those of the mighty and most feared team "The Wanderers", now call me "Shark Attack".
This harps back to just after I'd come out of hospital and proudly displayed my scars to enyone whom I could get to take a peek. Now, if I happen to score a spare, my team jump up and down and shout "Shark attack, shark attack!" very loudly. I am then required to lift up my sweater whilst on the alley and oscillate backwards and forwards as I do my party piece, the famous and legendary Hooper Pelvic Thrust.
This happened again a couple of weeks back. The team were shouting the shark attack thing and I obediently lifted up my sweater eagerly anticipating the recoil from the opposing side. Well, it stunned them into silence as they gazed with horror upon my displayed splendid patchwork quilt. Then one old boy, quitely raised his eyes, looked at me fair and square and said:
"Had a Caesarian, have you?"
Englishman.