What indeed. Sometimes people think I’m a miracle worker, but there is only so much that a local GP can do. When two aspirin doesn’t fix the problem, you just have to accept that any recovery will be a gradual process. If that means not sitting down for a while because the big spots make it too painful to do so, then so be it.
I had to break this news to my ex-wife Sally when she came to see me about her bottom spots. “I have big spots on my bottom” said Sally. “Big spots on a big bottom” was my quick retort. She called me an arseh*le. I asked her if her genital warts had cleared up. It was just like being married again, and we briefly smiled at one another before resuming indifference.
I said to Sally that bottom spots, especially big ones, were a metaphor for life. They appear without warning, grow in size, cause pain and suffering, and hang around arseh*les. By arseh*les, I mean Eddie, who pours a good whiskey but is not half as good a masseur as he claims. I’m probably biased but I actually don’t think there is such a thing as a “breast masseur”.
Anyway Sally was less interested in metaphors and more interested in something that will actually soothe her bottom and allow her to sit down. And it is true that I do have bottom soothing cream in my clinic but it says in big, bold letters “NOT TESTED ON ANIMALS”. Well how do I know it is any good then??? Unless I know the cream has been liberally smeared on some monkey’s rear end (very similarly proportioned to Sally’s rear end, as it happens) without nasty side effects, how can I ethically give it to a patient?
My logic was lost on Sally who grabbed the jar of soothing cream and ran out of my clinic. She only has herself to blame for the side effects of the cream which turn out to be a craving for bananas and a compulsive desire to pick lice from other people’s hair. Eddie has never looked so smart.