Untitled Document

Tales From The Bar

Woody was feeling his age and decided visit the Health Centre, not something he would do very often of willingly but. After the brutal humiliating examination by his Doctor he was assisted back to a chair in the office. The Doctor, who would not have looked out of place on Olympic Shot putting team, took up an intimidating position behind her desk. Placing her fingers precisely together and lowering her head to look gravely at Woody and speaking in sepulchral terms said “Woody my dear Boy you are a mental and physical wreck and we must do something about it.

This was a shock to Woody and he said: Can I have second opinions on that?

Very well said the Doctor “Woody my dear Boy you are a mental and physical wreck and we must do something about it.
Faced with such unanimous irrefutable evidence Woody capitulated.

“Ok Doc that is the diagnosis, what about a prognosis”?

“No thank you Dear Boy” said the Doc. “I will stick with my Volvo 444 Estate” Then with a dramatic flourish began to scribal furiously.

“You are suffering from near terminal dehydration through a lack of fine English Real Ale”. Ripping the pad from the prescription she thrust the prescription into Woody's trembling hand. “I prescribe three pints of Butcombe Best Bitter twice a day and extra at weekends, for the rest of your natural. Take this to your nearest dispensing outlet which I believe is the Britannia Inn, and commence without delay”.

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