Bit of a long one.
My Grandad was at Dunkirk. He told all eight of his grandchildren of that day and he would raise his left hand, show the stump of his little finger and say "I lost that in machinery, trying to help an injured colleague onto the boat". We all sat in awe, looking at the sacrifice our gallant grandfather had made.

The first Xmas after his death, my Grandma understandably got a bit maudlin on the sherry. We started talking about the old guy, and I mentioned his "war injury". My father and grandmother looked puzzled and asked what I was talking about. It turned out, he had a genetic condition that causes the little finger to curl in, reducing your hand to a claw. To prevent this happening, he had his finger lopped off in 1972. The lying git.

Even better, I'm getting the same thing with my finger now. Can't wait to regale the kids with the story of how I lost it pulling Saddam out of a hole.
( Rev. A-MOL is lurking around these parts again, Thu 11 Mar 2004, 14:01, Reply)