Kodak moment indeed!
You could forget the kiss of life. I would cut the organ in question out with a sharpened, rusty spoon and then sell it to a ju-ju man.
Aww, you guys! What a bunch of kidders! When I was on my way out, hogtied and strapped to a pallet with greased skids, a JATO bottle up my fundament, I could still depend on coming into the bar to be greeted with a heart-warming chorus of 'LOSER!' Sigh... my friends.
'Friends?' Well... whatever. That is what I really miss about West Africa. Where else can you get cheap abuse like that? Here in Germany you pay big money for that sort of thing from professionals. Normal folks just don't dish it out the way the Brits do.
Was it Socrates who said that life was like a cucumber? You know, one minute it's in the palm of your hand and the next it's up your *rse. One day you are out in West Africa feeling very, very sorry for yourself for a lot of good reasons and the next you wake up stranded on a beach somewhere feeling more miserable than that!