I was met outside the surgery by the same clip-board waving goon as before.
Tight jeans. Hand in the air. High-pitched voice. Spray at the ready.
“How can I help you today. Are you alright?”
“Why do you want to know?”
I responded with my usual curt replies and friendly demeanour.
Upon entering Fort Knox I made for the reception, but was told by the
receptionist I could only book over the phone for my eye appointment.
I noticed some literature laid out on a nearby table, and began to leaf
through its pages.
He walked over to me.
“Why are you looking at that. What are you looking for?”
“To see if there’s any gay porn!”
