There was simply no one present in the packed Sunday lunch time gathering in the Moaning Cow public house who did not give Mr. Angry a standing ovation for his diatribe against the British Medical Association (”BMA”). Mrs. Angry put down her knitting and gave her husband a special hug before drowning her third glass of sherry.
“Friends” Mr. Angry cried. “Never, never I repeat, have I read a letter which insults every one of us. All of us Friends.”
“Read it again Mr. Angry” shouted Bob from the fruit machine.
“It’s in ‘The Sunday Times’. The BMA and the Royal College of General Practitioners and others have written it. We must sue immediately.”
“How much did they say Mr. Angry?” asked Enid, Mrs. Angry’s best friend.
“Enid. I can’t bear to repeat it. They are recommending a 50p minimum price for a unit of alcohol. They say it will stop 98,000 hospital admissions and 3,060 alcohol-related deaths over a ten years period.”
“Yes Mr. Angry but the Scottish Government has set a minimum price of 50p. They know what they are doing” said Iain McGregor the local vet.
“It’s about free choice Iain” shouted Mr. Angry. “I want to be able to buy the drink I want. I like strong lager. It’ll be priced out of my range.”
“My range Mr. Angry” shouted Rita the bar maid. “You’ve not paid your tab for three months.”
“It’ll encourage customs violations and lead to chaos. There’s lots of dishonest people out there. Right I think I’ll play golf this afternoon.”
“Mr. Angry” yelled a voice. “There’s a call from your doctor. If you don’t get to the surgery by 2.00pm he’ll not be able to sign you off with your poorly back and you’ll forfeit your benefits payment.”
“Lovely man my doctor. I think I’ll take him a bottle of malt whiskey.”