Blood

My ancestry means I have rare B-negative blood. Not good if I have a nasty bike accident, no blood in the UK for me, so I thought I’d top up the stocks with my own, and there might be enough in there should anything nasty happen.
First time I went, they got their pint, and I got a card, and a letter and I felt really proud of myself.
I went back a few months later cos I got a letter saying stocks were low, please can I donate some more. Fine. Another pint. But the nurses were really nasty and made holes in both my arms to get the blood out, freaked me out a little. I was like a pin cushion, but they only needed one needle in.
Another letter a few months later, another pint. Cool, I’m single-handedly stocking up my stash for if this nasty bloody accident happens 
So I went back a few months later after another pleading guilt-trip letter asking for my blood, plasma or bone marrow, and turns out after prodding me with some more needles, that they didn’t really want it because I am anaemic. I blame this vegetarian lifestyle I’m living – not enough red meat for those iron cells!
And they send me letters so often, I feel the cost of posting them to me could be better spent with researching how to make artificial blood from tomatos, like Count Duckula or something.