Dr Farquar's Case History

March 23, 2003

Dr Farquar on Superstition

Superstition

I hate those impregnable electric plugs that when fused mean you have to cut the wire on a household appliance to replace it meaning the iron won’t reach your shirt collar anymore. Am I superstitious? (Phillippe Flop)

Dr Farquar says: No. However, if you ever got anything on an IQ test it would just be spittle. I would love to help you ironing but I’m too hard-pressed. Get old people to do it. They enjoy making knife edge creases sharp enough to slice your finger off because they think there is a war on and like to use brown paper and freshly churned butter for the job.

Just don’t invite them around for their own birthday. 86 candles on a cake is a fire hazard. When lighting the candles wear asbestos gloves and use heat retardant icing. On the hand if you don’t have a sprinkler system invite your aged relative over the flames after three pots of Earl Grey tea.

My Aunt Edie said that it is very ‘unlucky to see an ambulance’ and that you should pinch your nose and hold your breath until you see a brown dog. Imagine my surprise when after seeing an air ambulance while drowning in the North Sea I held my nose and breath instead of using my last flare and dying of exposure for the lack of brown dogs that just happen to be swimming around? (Roger Flatfish)

Dr F: Hard lines. I caught my siblings in a hay-baler once and in Grunty Fen you ARE lucky to see an Ambulance at any time of the sugar-beet harvest because most of them have been converted to Fish and Chip vans. One attended me when I was feeling ‘peckish’ and the numpty fart tried to sell me plasma instead of ketchup. So I pissed on me chips and called it Malt vinegar. A patient once gave me a gem of advice. He grazed his scrotum on razor wire while ferreting. I suggested antibiotics but he insisted “Nah, jus’ pita drarp of tractor arl onnit!” Needleless to say he died of septicemia of the meat and two veg. On the upside his ferrets are ideal for dropping inside the cleavage of our anesthetist Sarah Sharpesbox.

Insofar as the sorry saga of your ‘Auntie’ Edie there is little I can do, because she also believed you could ‘never get pregnant if you sneeze after sex’. Not in her case. I shagged her in a stable knowing of her allergy and deliberately forgot the anti-histamine. Feeling her clench pre-sneeze was a real winkle-snipper joy and just look what happened to you and how tall you’ve grown. I can’t wait until she gets the pneumonia and I get the pneumatics.

Why are Old Wives tales nothing more than an extension of our deep fear of the unknown and just a bizarre array of silly superstitious anecdotes rooted in ritualized Black magic? Surely what will be will be will be. You make your own luck. Since my entire family perished in a freak landmine accident at Asda while my winning lottery ticket was stolen after thieves burgled and torched my uninsured house at the exact time I was in your office being diagnosed with huge radiation poisoning after being force-fed hundreds of glow-sticks during a nightclub machete mugging followed by contracting aids by gang-rapers who left me for dead in a sewer when the tide was in….I’ve never looked back. “Cross my heart and hope to…. (shit …is that a bird? Is it a plane? Nope! Just my feckin’ tough bollocks… it’s a bleeding anvil). (Ida Ducked)

Are suicide bombers superstitious? I mean do they refuse to walk under ladders or throw salt over there shoulders in case something bad is about to happen? (Teresa Green)

Dr F: Lets see. It’s hard to know what is going through their mind just before a needless human atrocity. Its probably not “Did I leave the gas on?” As for being superstitious, their ears will be burning later.

My mother says it’s unlucky to cut your fingernails on a Friday or Sunday. How true? She works at a local sawmill and cut all her fingers off with a ripsaw making her ‘clocking off’ a messy business. (Elton Safety)

Dr F: Tch ! Tch! What a feckin’ silly bitch your Mother is and what a jumped up never come down little whorebastard you are. Later that very day your Mother had the cheek to call by A+E. Then……………

She had the nerve to ask me for emergency microsurgery, as I have just bought a flat-pack cocktail bar from Ikea. I said if she wanted to have her digits stitched back on that she needs to bring the offending objects in for re-grafting. She moaned that she didn’t have them with her. I asked her ‘why not’ and all she said was .. “I couldn’t pick ‘em up!”

I hate superstitious folk, especially those who insist on reading your stars when you are having a shit day anyway . Lionel O’Liam

Dr Farquar says: Since the TravelLodge is completely booked up, you have no room to talk. Frankly Sir, you have a nerve to complain at the very least. You arrived at the launch of our Simulatory Clinic 29b. A Drop-In for people with Simulatory Syndrome. A wonderfully lucrative but gratuitous and avoidable human condition invented by me. You will remember this is a new department for the assessment of make-believe maladies void of any medical relevance for the treatment of those supposedly suffering from any originality in feckin’ lame excuses to get a sick note. Or more plainly, those of our patients who think up imaginary symptoms that they simply don’t possess. By the way these cases are marked ‘Fuckwits’ and go in the C.S file (Chicken Shit).

I was further taken aback at your unabashed conduct at the very start of the evening. Not being content with bringing ‘White Lightning’ and trying to pass it off as a delicately aged 1959 vintage Champers, you peeked and plucked my favourite ‘chockies’ from the second layer of the box when the first tray was not finished. This you must agree is a heinous theft of gargantuan proportions. I was thus forced to send your teeth on holiday with the help of an ambulance wheel-brace. I fixed your later teeth just to cap it all…

Then, to the astonishment of our canteen chef, Simon Ella and guests, and with unmitigated selfishness, you disgraced yourself in the most unforgivable way. After the five course Vol-au-Vont a La Carte Noir Petit-Pois Cul-de-Sac duty free buffet, you left your plastic knife and fork on the second-hand cardboard plates at a very rakish angle proving to the gay Polish underage waiter you are good in bed. How dare you? I saw him first.

I think ‘Timeteam’ should be superstitious. After all, raking over history is hardly anything new. Anyway when they go to these ancient sites they only spend a few quid on B&B and the ‘digs’ are usually lousy. (Geoff Izz)

Dr F: Yes, such behaviour could leave an archeologists’ career in ruins and they don’t want to keep going over old ground. They marry young so the older their wives get the more they want to dust them occasionally and explore any strange markings. Like varicose veins and liver spots. This why I keep Mrs Smith moving in queues at museums in case somebody tries to finger or poke her around… give her a good scrape and try to carbon date her. She doesn’t like to make an exhibition of herself or just be left on the shelf to be auctioned off.

Are flood experts superstitious or don’t they give a dam? (Hanna Waywidya)

Dr F: The only flood expert I ever lost as a patient was a member of our aristocracy. His name was Earl Megutsup. He died of Scarlet fever because he said he ‘liked being marooned’.

I am a freelance solicitor and don’t believe in superstition. In fact I’m a law unto my self. (Casey Jerned)

Dr F: My Great Frothy Gonads! I know you. I asked you to do my laundry once and you proceeded to press a suit on me. You shagged Kim Pewter my admin assistant. Well I’m taking your two sexy transvestite gardeners Eric Shun and Hugh Ganus out tonight as revenge. We are meeting Dick Draggin and Jess Cummin for a cosy foursome at the “Feastin’ Eastern’ kebab house. It will be quite a bash! I love lashings of that hot chilli sauce that Achmed Dadsdead serves customers there. It’s hotter than Satan’s bollocks! Cripes! You might imagine I may have to put my toilet rolls in the fridge back at their studio flat as I bet I will know just what my arse is for in the morning.

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