This is why you should never expose a geek to direct sunlight.

I haven’t had the dubious distinction of said shedding of skin and burn of redness since Thomas Magnum had forgotten to refill the gas tank of Master Robin’s FAV while on an excursion into the Gobi Desert. He tried to blame me, of course, citing that it was my incessant ramblings that distracted him from his task at hand. I had to listen to his ludicrous charges for the better part of a day before we were rescued by the last Prince of Prussia, an old friend whose life I had saved long ago in the Himalayans while in service to the Queen, who was himself in search of the lost Russian Crown Jewels in the vicinity. But that’s neither here nor there, I suppose.

May I suggest, my dear Raph, that you procure yourself of a concoction of olive oil, lemon juice, and mamba venom, blended with salt to a fine paste, and spread liberally over said areas of disputed vivacity. This will either cure you or kill you, as the Sahib us-Sumuw al-Malik has always been fond of saying. In either case, I think you may be appreciative of my suggestion.