Me Dad went down the doctors yesterday, what a bloody depressing place that sounds. Full of ill people watching the "telly" - except the sole channel that they have got makes Jeremy Kyle programmes look uplifting. Welcome....Think you've got Chlamydia? Well that's probably the least of your worries, but no problem, we've got special "where did I get that from" self-testing kits in the bogs so nobody can see your dirty secret. Oh, missus, you don't look too clever, why not start saving for your funeral now so that you won't be the same almighty burden after you've gone as you are now. Hurry! Under 25? You've probably got the pox. Whap your privates out onto the table and the nurse will have a quick look for you. Don't worry she's seen it all before. Christ, will you look at the shape of that. Hang on, let me get Doris from reception to have a shuftie. Over 45? You've almost certainly got heart & liver disease, that's why you're a funny colour. Smoker? You disgust us. Over 65? Yes you, are you over 65 dear? You smell of wee. Is that your own wee love, or someone else's? Kids, why not scream loudly and run round the waiting room whilst your Mother smiles at you as if you are reciting poetry. Go on, pick that cricket bat up and hit that old lady on the head with it, she loves it. Welcome...
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.