Wednesday, 19 March 2014


Vanessa went to see Dr Goode first thing this morning to request some antibiotics for an increasingly gruesome throat infection.

We already knew it was a throat infection because, on Monday, she went to visit Dr Shitt-Too. You've met this medical genius before.

Dr Shitt-Too had a big gawk down Vanessa's gullet and immediately reported the presence of a number of white spots.

"You've got a throat infection!" 

Well done him. So what to do?

"Nothing," he said. "It should be better in a couple of days."

This course of "action" had already been predicted by Vanessa's friend Jill whom I met whilst dropping Jamie off at school. 

"He'll just tell her to pull herself together," she said dryly. Jill has "had" Dr Shitt-Too er, too.

I wind the clock on two days to this morning, when all - OK, Vanessa - was meant to be well. Then she woke up with the neck of Herman Munster. This is not a good look.

Thankfully, sensing that Dr Shitt-Too might have missed another crucial day at doctor school (i.e. the day they did sore throats) Vanessa had already shrewdly booked an appointment with the ever-reliable (but rarely available) Dr Goode. 

Following a short chat and a couple of "say AAARRGGHH"s, Mrs W was dispatched with some penicillin and a throat spray. Who knows, she may even get better now. 

As for Dr Shitt-Too, well, like me, he's clearly a man who's never truly found his vocation. Maybe he'll become the next manager of Manchester United.