Proper job.

As in, a job requiring proper skills, planning, and all the painkillers in the box, knelt as we were on the tarmac in a chilly breeze. Our chap was in surgery by lunchtime, having his smashed up leg screwed back into one piece.

(And for once, I remembered to transfer all my hastily scrawled drug dosages and times to paper from my glove, before throwing it away.)