Dr Cunt


I’ve been off on the sick – genuinely ill! In fact I’ve not felt quite so bad for some time and lost 11lb in weight over a day and a half. I know this because for a short period I became obsessed with weighing myself. Now 11lb on me is barely noticeable, in fact you could argue it’s similar to throwing a deckchair off the Titanic but nonetheless significant in such a short span of time. Mainly it was fluid lost whilst sleeping and much out the back of my head which was a bit worrying.

I had weighed myself only the day before as it happens and I know you’re only supposed to do this something like a couple of weeks apart and always at the same time of day, but having not eaten I was curious and on checking had lost 5lb overnight. I was aware that when I started eating and drinking properly it would soon go back on and it already has, but after two days of nothing I was surprised just how quickly things change. When I discovered after waking on Friday lunchtime the full extent of the 11lb I was amazed. I then ate for the first time two slices of ham sandwich. That’s two pieces of bread, one slice of ham and a thin layer of spread. I managed to hold it down but still sat on the sofa sweating profusely and also went for a shit shortly after lunch. I was due at the doctors at 4pm so I went and had a bath before that and as I was in the bathroom, I weighed myself again. Wtf??? I had put 3lb back on! A fat cunt I may be, but how? A fucking sandwich compensated by a shit! I can only assume that I must have been breathing in some particularly heavy air!

Obtaining the doctors appointment wasn’t as easy as you might think either. I’m about as fit as an asthmatic turtle, but I rarely feel the need to trouble the doctor and yet it seems that I need to book a bout of illness in advance as the following Tuesday was the best day they could offer me. Useless fucking cunts if I’d known I was going to be ill I would have booked an appointment what good do you think fucking Tuesday is? Anyhow my final option was to phone back at precisely 2pm and they would advise if there had been any afternoon cancellations and I got a 4pm slot. I get there slightly early, the fuckers leave me waiting around for an hour feeling like shit, breathing in other germs and then deal with me in under a minute. Wtf does everyone else talk about in their room for what seems like hours?

The longest part of our conversation was me requesting a sick-note for work. They prefer you to self-certificate for the first seven days as they would be otherwise inundated with requests. I’m aware of this option but our current work policy is that if you don’t obtain a sick-note, you don’t get paid. What can I do but waste my time and the doctors knowing full-well what my symptoms are and what’s required? The result is that they are prepared to raise a note but at the cost of £15. Money-grabbing cunts, but preferable to losing two days pay so I duly oblige.

I assumed I could reclaim this on my expenses as I had a receipt, but was informed at work it was my tough luck. So they insist on a note but are not prepared to fund the raising of them. About fucking right for this place at present. Money wasted everywhere with people unable to see the bigger picture and think that penny-pinching and alienating staff is the way forward. It might only be £15 but I felt more aggrieved at that than having lost time in the past.

The upside to being ill was getting to watch the entire four days golf at St Andrews but as usual I ran badly in the betting. I won’t bore you with the details but I kept missing the prices and leaving the trade only to see significant shortening on said players that I would have greened out on quite quickly. I run too bad, I’m sure it’s personal.

Coventry have so far managed 0-0 v Hinckley and 0-0 v Nuneaton. Looks like another season of excitement ahead at the Ricoh!

Rob