Dear Dr Jon, A pensioner drove into the back of me at 2mph in Aldi car park. I've been watching cable telly, and I think I'll sue her, because, mysteriously, my neck's gone a bit stiff nine weeks later. Will you do a report?
No I fucking won't. The least the bunch of Ambulance Chasers you've engaged to make money in your name can do is bother to find a shill themselves.
Dear Dr Jon, Sorry I missed our appointment, I can't afford to insure the car. Can I have another one?
You might want a word with that twat who just left. And yes, but not for 6 weeks.
Dear Dr Jon, can you explain the proposed health reforms to me?
Yes, yes I can. We have a Tory government. They all have private healthcare. They appear to think people like you are cheats, scum and a waste of money to treat properly. Unless someone can make a profit out of it of course. Hope you feel better.
Dear Dr Jon, what's your sodding problem? You're not actually an eminent Professor of Medicine yourself, are you? You appear to be a grimy failure behind a chipped desk in a crappy health centre, taking out your bitterness on the people you are paid to serve.
Good morning mother.