LETTERS FROM THE SURGERY
Dear Sir, we have to tell you sadly
you’ve been eating rather badly
your blood tests have confirmed it
which means you might walk wobbly.
The cream cakes and the scones must
go, and pies and custard tarts – instead
consider dieting and read about the arts.
So please make an appointment – alas
there’s no known ointment, to save you
from the cart. (Signed: Dr Brown)
(Letter Two – Received 3 days later).
Dear Sir, Doctor Brown has passed
away, and Doctor Green takes over.
The new GP reviews your case and
likes to tell you gladly – no need for
an appointment, or dowse yourself
in ointment – but says it inter alia to
pass his love to Thalia, now living
in Australia (I think it’s close to
Hillbilly’s – accessible by pathways
not far from Poet Matthews who
lives on Kangaroo stews, with a glass
or two of Fosters believe it if you
choose) – but as for sweetheart Thalia
she likes to wear regalia and fill her
plate with Brussel sprouts so she
can serenade you and waft away
the blues. We heard it on Oz news.
(Signed: Dr Green)
(Letter Three – A week Later.)
Dear Sir, Doctor Green has passed
away, no GPs left to have their say.
– our NHS no longer pay – alas the
world a duller grey.
(Signed: Breaking News)