My brush with the fuzz.

It was just another morning at St. Philomena’s Hospital. There I was, clowning merrily, when suddenly a stern policeman blocked my path, and informed me that I was wanted in the Administration department. (This turned out to be a lie).

I went peacefully (I did manage to tell the children and other patients to call my lawyer and my mummy as I went). Oddly enough, the policeman refused to handcuff me, no matter how much I insisted.

Finally, in the administration dept, I was able to explain. It was a simple case of miscommunication, or in this case, no communication. The police inspector turned out to be a security guard - the ward sister hadn't been informed about Dr Clown's visits, so when she saw Mamu and me clomping happily down her corridors, she thought, "Who on earth are these two clowns?" (literally!) and called Security!

All was sorted out amicably, once everyone knew that we had the approval of both the hospital director and the head of paediatrics. There were a few extra journeys up and down because the Security guard's colleagues hadn't been updated either, and so they refused to let us back in to the wards!

Being a lady of some leisure, I waited and blew bubbles at them, while Mamu chivalrously made these perilous trips back and forth to prove our innocence. Eventually we got back in, and the whole funny little mishap ended up making us all good buddies.

Unfortunately we've not had the opportunity to go clowning there since (I do hope they don't think we're sulking or scared off), as one week Mamu had a cold, one week we were tied up with rehearsals for our show, and then last week I had a bad stomach. (We don't go clowning if we have any such illnesses, so that there is “no risk of passing infections to sick children whose resistance is already compromised”, as the guidelines say).

But joy! Tomorrow is Tuesday, and we shall head back to St Phil's at 10.30 a.m!