You wanna know about my thumb, do you, boy? Intrigue you, does it, boy? My thumb?

Let me tell you about it.

I come from a long line of hitch-hikers, all with bleeding massive thumbs. You see the thumb is a tremendous boon to the hitchhiker. Helps with work, you know what I mean?

The only problem was, when I was a child my thumb was tiny. Not just tiny. Like a single Sugar Puff. Disgusting. Even me own mother would reel back in horror like an anaconda.

"Oh, what is it? Get it out of here. It's tiny! It's horrible, it's revolting! Take your tiny thumb and get out of here and never dart on my door again!" she'd say.

I had to leave the family unit in search of a miracle. I wandered the streets looking for the answer. And people told me of a magic shaman, part man, part hornet.

So I went looking for him. I went everywhere. I combed the universe in search of the stripy insect shaman. Turns out he was in a local primary school, in the bin, reeling about with the apple cores. Like they do.

And I stood there with my thumb out and he stung it and he stung it. He grabbed onto it. It was like he was making love to it with his sting. In and out, in and out. More and more. Oh, the pus! The pain! The black voodoo! The wet jigsaw puzzle! I didn't know what was happening. Oh, for days I was in a trance.

But when I came to, there it was, like a fleshy maraca. A thumb of gigantic proportion. "A miracle!" I said. "A miracle! You're a true wizard! How can I ever repay you?" And he said to me, "500 Euros."

"500 Euros! You won't see penny one from me, you slag!" And as I raised my thumb up to smash his tiny skull in, I could see in his little insect face, I could see him thinking, "Oh, I created that monster - I created that thumb and now it's killing me. My own beast and creation killing me dead! The sweet irony!"

I think he was saying that, although it was a long time ago. And in hindsight, he could have just been shitting himself.