It used to be that prosthetic limbs and style had little to do with one another. Prosthetic limbs have typically had as much style as
orthopedic shoes, sheathed in beige fabric to cover the metal and
plastic parts within. They lacked originality, they lacked flair and they certainly didn’t reflect the wearer’s personality. Now, that couldn’t further from the truth.
I cackled at this, this is brilliant!!!
He’d get out the car, start locking up when he hears a disgusted snort. He turns and some snobby woman with a fake Prada bag and a sneer on her face is eyeing him.
“People like you make me sick,” she spits.
“Madame, I am a doctor, I assure you I do entirely the opposite,” he replies with a polite, albeit tight-lipped smile.
“That’s a parking spot for the DISABLED, of which you clearly are not!”
Joly, never once taking his eyes from the woman’s, rolls up the left leg of his jeans, detaches the prosthetic and, with the precision of a professional athlete, lobs it at her face.
Bossuet and Chetta come to pick him up from the shopping centre security offices and he just grins at them, as they shake their heads and are like “Fuck sake Joly, not AGAIN!”