I visited J very briefly in the hospital this evening, and he's up and about. Says he'll be out of there Tuesday morning. You have to understand that J's an active, soccer-playing Brit (ah, yes-- football; sorry, old boy), and the absolute last person I'd expect to suffer this sort of problem (collapsed lung, not spontaneously ascending testicles).
Thanks to the one person who responded to the call for charitable contributions; there are treasures stored up for you in heaven. As it turns out, there's no formal bank account to which to send cash, so while your charity is appreciated, I think the EC hierarchy and J's friends and coworkers will be finding ways to obtain the requisite fundage. He won't be left high and dry.
...I must say I do harbor a slight suspicion that J has been faking all this just to get some attention, that filthy Limey bast--
What's that you say? A lot of staffers at EC read this blog? J himself is aware of what's on here?
Oh, shit. Good thing I didn't mention that thing about the cocaine and the room salon.
_
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