I'm an index finger typist. From daybreak to sunset, these two fingers crash down on the keyboard the way Jerry Lee Lewis thrashes a piano keyboard. Constant salvos all day long.

Index fingered typing has a very distinct rhythm, like pneumatic drills tearing a road up, gouging, pummelling, not the flitting poetry of every finger fully stretched and caressing the keys like eagles riding the thermals. No, not all. It's industrial. Two drop hammers pounding the dust out of my laptop. The desk shivering. Pens and coffee cups hopping across the desk top. It's that kind of effort I put in.

But the rhythm can't continue...my fingers can't stand it any more. They starting to rebel. They hurt. Imagine two fingers sore and crucified, especially my right one, it's numb nearly.

I lose all power in these two then that's it. Doomed. Industrially unfit for work.