He turned out to be Dr Dolittle.
We have waited months for this appointment, the tumour has been alarming all our friends and families for over a year, but since we are due at a wedding within the next few weeks, and he wants us all to be friends by then, the good Doctor found time to fit us in yesterday afternoon.
His prescription was mind blowing – he has decided that the best thing to do is to increase the size of the tumour by 2.2%. You’ll hardly notice it, he said. This is not what we were expecting.
He says if we can’t afford to drink cider any more, and we don’t smoke in our cars, and we all have a bank account even if we’ve got nothing to put in it, and he sets up a government department that will force banks to lend money to us even when they know perfectly well that we can’t afford to pay them back – then the tumour will shrink all by itself in another 5 years or so.
I don’t believe him, he’s a quack, he’s been talking to the animals in Downing Street for too long – and I want a second opinion.
Fortunately, the law says I can have one – by June 6th at the latest.
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- March 25, 2010 at 14:05