Mr. Angry takes his medicine

“Look Mrs. Angry. It’s outrageous. I’m ashamed to be British.”

“Calm down Mr. Angry. You know what your doctor advised.” Mrs. Angry carried on with her knitting as, with people watching the Olympic Games, her takings from the washing orders were down.

“It’s my doctor I’m furious about Mrs. Angry.” He took a long draft of his extra strong lager. “Look at this report in ‘the Sun.”

“That’s page three you’re looking at Mr. Angry.”

“No it’s not Mrs. Angry. It’s the Australians playing beach volleyball. It’s an  Olympic sport.”

“Since when did ‘Samantha “I love opening ceremonies” from Barking’ play beach volleyball Mr. Angry?”

“You’re missing the point Mrs. Angry. This article says that hospital Accident and Emergency Departments are being swamped because doctors have cut their out-of-work hours. Look! It says people are waiting for three weeks to get appointments and 500 practices have stopped evening and weekend surgeries.”

“Didn’t the Prime Minister vow that the Conservatives would ensure that you could see you doctor seven days a week?”

“He was having an off day Mrs. Angry. Anyway he’ll busy planning his autumn reshuffle. I wander if Red Ed will get a Cabinet position.”

“I thought he ran the Labour Party Mr. Angry?”

“Does he? When did that happen?” He drowned his pint of lager. “Mrs. Angry. The doctor. My prolapsed disc in my back. I must get a sickness note so I can pay for our holiday to Sri Lanka.”

“Remember not to mention it’s a golfing complex we’re going to.”

“Mrs. Angry. They just sign to get rid of me. Anyway they are all lazy. Just look at this article.”

“That’s ‘Samantha from Barking’ whose now removed her beach volleyball outfit Mr. Angry.”

 

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