I never used to go to the doctor’s much, because as far as I could see, it was a place for poorly people, and I have always been a tough fucker.
Dentists and opticians, of course, are quite different. You go there regularly, and they keep you tip top. They say, “Why Sir, you look good. Keep doing what you’re doing. And floss more.”
And they take money off you for it, so you think, ah, that’s cool. They get money, I get guidance. This is business. They like me being there.
But doctors are different. If you went to a doctor without an ailment, you’d be wasting their time. They don’t get money. They don’t think “awesome, that was the easiest Â£15 I’ll ever make.” They think “fucker.”
Recently my girlfriend has been getting very concerned about me. No grounds for it, as far as I can see, but I’ve been to the doctor’s twice in the last fortnight, for two different reasons, but on both occasions I’ve been told to “go back if it gets any worse.”
So what happens next time the girlfriend has one of her panic attacks and wants me to go to the doctor to have a particularly ugly looking hangnail checked out? Do I tell her that I’m a man, and can look after myself, and by golly, cavemen didn’t go to the doctor when they were poorly, and they were tough fuckers?
What then happens if the ugly looking hangnail jumps up and strangles me? I’ll wish I’d listened to her advice then.