Dr Farquar on Good Practice

Good Practice

I have caught a deadly superbug because you didn’t wash your hands before giving me an ‘internal’ for conjunctivitis and a sprained tongue. What is it going to take to get you before a medical board? (Fooge)

Dr Farquar says: We could go out for a kebab?

I am a cannibal and when I next feel peckish I will remember to leave your penis at the side of the plate as you have obviously been doing some beastly things with it. (Fooge)

Dr F: Why don’t you just have a ball instead?

I went to see your hospital dentist about a mouth abscess and all he did was stick his finger up my arse and a Johnsons baby bud up the end of my knob. Why?(Fooge)

Dr F: I think you went to the GUM clinic by mistake.

In the spirit of some of your other female patients we believe you to have abused our trust whilst in your care. We think insisting we wear a wet T-shirt at your surgery for your own blood pressure checks unnecessary. We don’t mind but we gave you our very hearts… our…our minds… and ……

Dr F: Our souls?

Since you injected me with creosote I have become impotent. (Fooge)

Dr F: No hard feelings, then?

Your doctorate is worthless. I don’t need it to line my bread bin anymore as it’s gone mildew. (Fooge)

Dr F: Too right. It reminds of an R.J. It was presented to me rolled up. It took a lot of time and effort to get one. I only ever used it once and the very next day it was bloody useless and left under the bed.

I presented you with that diploma in medicine at Grunty fen Medical faculty in 1973. As your professor I was appalled at you fondling one of the taller girls at the ‘passing out’. (Fooge)

Dr F: No Sir. I wouldn’t dare. That was my tutor.

Do you know that Freud considered ‘knitting’ a form of masturbation? (Fooge)

Dr F: You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.

I’ll see you in court, you Dunderhead. It was so cold when I saw you last you put your hands in my pockets. You conned me out of my life savings for publishing your new Life study book. “100 uses for a dead cat.” (Fooge)

Dr F: Take me to court by all means . But remember..You are trusting your fate in the hands of 12 people not clever enough to get out of jury service.

I’m a jazz musician fighting depression because of singing too many of the blues. Can you think of a new song lyric to cheer me up? (Fooge)

Dr F: How about, “I didn’t wake up this morning…?”

I just bought a coffee from your Kenco machine and it had a cockroach in the bottom of the cup. What is the meaning of this?(Fooge)

Dr F: Don’t ask me I’m a doctor not a bloody gypsy.

I’m Bill Clinton. I used to play in a band like your prime minister and I am over here in your cute country renting one of his wife’s flats in London. Boy, I love that city. How about some NHS freebies? We don’t have free condoms in the States. (Fooge)

Dr F: (Readers caution. This is what happens when you cross a lesbian with a draft dodger.) How is Chelsea? Your daughter, not your digs that is. If you can’t afford dry cleaners at the White house you must promise Cherie not to wipe it on the duvet here.

Thanks for the advice. (Heck! I wish Monica had swallowed). (Former President of a blue dress and a blowjob that went horribly wrong.)

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