I'm just back from my appointment with Dr Not Shit and - here's a shock - he confirmed that his "valued" (by no-one) colleague, Dr Shit, had got it wrong in dealing with my sinusitis.
The long and short of it is that she (twice) prescribed me a dosage of antibiotics that would barely have relieved a budgie of the sniffles. And, as a result, I've been forced to ensure three months of headaches.
Mercifully, the horse tranquillisers he gave me should sort things out in a few days. (I have - somewhat imaginatively - put a 20p beside them to prove to you that I'm not lying about their sheer hugeness).
Good old Dr Not Shit, or Dr Real Doctor as I've now decided call him.
I hope you'll quickly permit me to go off on a little tangent before I leave you to your own devices.
You'll probably have seen yesterday's scenes of students and their "supporters" smashing up Conservative HQ in Westminster, during which several police officers were injured.
Now, if my Northern Ireland upbringing has taught me anything, it's to always try to see the funny side in any difficult situation.
And a Radio 5 Live early morning interview with an anonymous member of the police riot squad did make me titter.
Describing the angst faced by him and pals on the frontline, he came out with this classic:
"The abuse, the threats that we received, basically wishing us death. And worse......well, there's nothing worse than death. Obviously."
Bless.
No comments:
Post a Comment