...brain the size of a planet... You know? Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? The radio version? Because of the sound effects. Wheeze, wheeze, clank.
I say this because he has been fitted with a 24 hour blood pressure recording device. It's supposed to take readings every half hour.
So there he is - wandering around with a plastic box on his belt and a tube snaking up over his T-shirt... which, I suppose, is connected to one of those armband thingies.
And every half hour this wheezing, flatulent sound starts up. The Old Man goes rigid and stands to attention - as if suffering from some form of "petit mal". Then, more often than not, the spectacle finales with a high-pitched peep-peep-peep as the machine fails to find any recordable blood pressure and registers an error message instead.
Good job we haven't got tickets for a concert.
I would have to spray him silver and try to pass him off as a member of a 1980s art-rock tribute band.