The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag

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The doctor Said that I was a paranoid schizophrenic. Well, he didn't actually say it. But we knew he was thinking it.

'Tell me about the butterfly,' the doctor said. Which particular butterfly would that be?, I said.

The doctor consulted his case notes. 'The butterfly of chaos theory.'

'Ah, that lad.'

'That lad, yes. Would you care to tell me about it?'

I shrugged. 'It's just a theory. You know the kind of thing. A butterfly in Acapulco flaps its wings and England lose the European Cup.'

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. 'And you believe that, do you?'

I shrugged again. 'I can take it or leave it. I'm not bothered.'

'And yet' - more case note consulting - 'I understand that you claimed to have such powers yourself.'

'Me? Never!'

'Really?' The doctor raised an eyebrow and also a press cutting. 'But I have here a review of your stage act, 'њCarlos the Chaos Cockroach'ќ.'

'That was just a comedy routine.'