At work, we got an email today asking if we matched a blood type, could we come forward as someone's son needs a bone marrow transplant. (it's a personal decision, not forced.)

Anyways, I call my Mum to ask her does she know my blood type and bless her...

'Hmmm. Kayleia that is a lovely thing to do for someone but...'
'But what?'
'Stingray did it for Kerry in Neighbours and he died.'
'...'
'Duckie?'
'I'll call you later Mum.'

This is like the time when I wasn't allowed to go paintballing as PJ went blind in Byker Grove.