Long before we all became self-appointed experts in epidemiology, with our own quack remedies and hocus pocus about containing the coronavirus, we used to be self-appointed experts in osteopathy, with our own quack remedies and hocus pocus about soothing sair backs.
Such knowledge, of course, stemmed from the fact that there had been so much coverage of Tiger Woods’ dodgy dorsal down the years, you could walk into a clubhouse bar after the Saturday medal and listen to Norrie casually talking with great authority about the ins and outs of “microdiscectomy surgery” and “anterior lumbar interbody fusion” before he seamlessly moved into a cursing lament about “that bloody shank on the 16th which nearly clattered auld…
